Fate Ragnarök
by Lorithomar
Summary: Fuyuki City, 1994: The Fourth Holy Grail War has begun, and Seven contestants have gathered to do battle for the ultimate prize, and things go as well as can be expected. However, this Holy Grail War is but the beginning, for Ragnarok, the true War is coming, and America will be its battleground. Will the World survive? (Mixed with American Gods and Chilling Adventures of Sabrina)
1. Chapter 1

Fate Ragnarök Chapter 1: Iron, Silver and Steel

_1985_

Kiritsugu worked on his arm, while his missing one ached, his other limbs worked and ached quietly, and his wife gave birth.

Outside, it snowed.

The prosthetic arm was a strange work of art. It was crafted from the purest of iron, and steel, and engraved all over with tiny little runes. Its exterior was smooth, almost fluid in appearance, and felt as light as his own flesh. It even fit just firmly enough that it did not pinch at his stump.

Though, after so long, he had a bit a trouble remembering how that had actually felt.

Best of all, he could even still _feel _through the arm, whether it was hot, cold, soft, smooth, rough, sharp, etc… though, compared to real flesh, it was still somewhat numb.

It seemed to grow just a bit more numb every day…

The limb had been a gift from his employers, this family of white hair and red eyes and ancient, arcane traditions. An advance payment, to replace the bulkier model that he had been using in the past.

It was a lovely arm. A work of art.

Much better than his other limbs.

He did not look up, even as his wife cried out in pain from the pain of childbirth.

It had been over a day, now, since the labor had begun, and yet, he could not find it within himself to be at her side as she gave birth.

But that was fine. Monsters like him did not deserve to witness such a miracle, after all.

His hand bean to spasm a bit, and he reached for the breathing mask, and inhaled, letting the sensation of its contents enter his lungs.

So, while his wife gave birth, he simply busied himself by working on his perfect, cold arm. Besides, it was not like he slept much, any more.

_…. "How amusing."_

With a sigh at the memory, he set down the screwdriver and then reattached his metal limb with a grunt and a twist of his gloved hand. As he stood, he idly withdrew a silver American dollar from his pocket that he always carried with him, and let it dance through his metal hand's fingers.

Good, this prosthetic showed no signs of degradation as of yet.

As he flicked the coin around, a maid, with skin and hair as white as snow, entered the chapel room. "It is done, Mister Emiya. It is a girl."

With that test finished, he turned and followed the homunculus maid towards his wife.

Iri lay in the grand bed, sweat dotting her beautiful form, and she was no doubt tired from the exertion. Yet, on her face was a serene and radiant smile as she first gazed at him, and then down at the sleeping infant that was swaddled in her arms.

"She is just so adorable. Look, she even has your eyes."

For a moment, he did not move, and just stood, staring at her, and her child.

She knew what he was, what he had done, and the sins that comprised his being. She had known for a very long time now. She knew that he was a monster.

Yet, Iri did not care, and she loved him with all her heart.

Why?

It still did not make any sense to him.

"What's wrong?"

Her voice reawakened him from his musings, and he looked her right in the eye. "Iri… why are you not afraid?

"Afraid?"

"Yes… afraid of me."

Her face grew confused. "Why on earth would I be afraid of you, my husband?"

He clenched his fists of metal and flesh. "Because, I am destined to be the cause of your death. Because, I am not worthy to hold that child in these monstrous hands. I do not deserve such a privilege."

At that, her face grew somber for a moment, and he watched as her scarlet eyes looked downwards towards his right gloved fist, under which they both knew the three Scarlet symbols were engraved. Symbols which were matched by the ones on her own right hand.

She looked upon the infant in her arms, and then back at him, that serene smile once more on her face. "Don't be like that. Besides, don't forget that what you are striving for is a world that is safe and pure. A grand new world, where no one is made to cry anymore. The hope for that world, it is what your whole life has been defined by. Eight more years until you can finally grasp it in those hands of yours, and your struggle will finally be over. It is what makes you the man that I love, not a monster.

"As such, you more than deserve to hold your own child. So please, take our child, Illyasviel, and hold her close. Hold her, and be proud, as any father deserves to be."

Kiritsugu sighed. He did not smile, but he knew that she could tell, by the softening of his eyes, that she had convinced him.

He then approached the bedside. His limbs slightly trembling, Kiritsugu took his newborn daughter into his arms of cold metal and warm flesh.

He looked down upon her. Physically, she was perfect. Such a tiny little bundle of new life and soft flesh, borne of love and pain, like all infants of the world.

If, in eight years, everything went according to their plans and hopes, and she was allowed to live a long and full life… then, when she grew up, would she be fated to become a monster, like him?

He looked back at Iri, who still had that beautiful smile of hers. "Eight more years, until you can achieve our ideal world, through the Salvation that is the Holy Grail…."

* * *

_Torino, Italy, 1991_

Kirei watched quietly as the man in red sipped from a glass filled with a wine that most likely cost more than the clothes on the priest's own back.

But, at the moment, that was not forefront upon the young priest's mind. No, that was reserved for what the man, the magus, to be exact, had just told him, about the strange marks on his hand, and what they signified.

"Command seals?"

The man in red nodded. "That is correct. What they signify is your status as a Master in the Holy Grail War of Fuyuki. In essence, think of them as a sort of stigmata that bestow upon you the power to command the spirit of an ancient hero, a Servant."

The man set down his now empty glass, and then held up his own hand, which were emblazoned with similar markings. His reminded Kirei of the ripples that water made when it was lightly tapped, as well as an arrow being loosed from a bowstring.

Kirei then looked down at his own right hand. "The Holy Grail War… a clandestine battle for an ancient relic that can grant wishes and perform miracles for whosoever holds it in their hands."

"Indeed."

The young priest then looked back up at the man in red. "But if that is the case… then why me? Why would I be selected to participate in such an event?"

The man in red shrugged. "In all honesty, I am not sure. In the past, the Seven Masters chosen by the Grail to command Heroic Spirits were seven magi of great experience and accomplishment. Thus, it is most unusual, if not unprecedented, for one such as yourself, a person with absolutely no connection to magecraft whatsoever, to be given this chance to participate."

"Heroic Spirits… that is something that I still find to be most perplexing to be commanding the echoes of long-dead heroes as familiars with which we do battle."

"I understand how difficult all of this must be for you to believe, but it is true. In less than three years' time, heroes from every mythology of every corner of the world will walk the earth once more and kill one another in a contest for Supremacy."

The corner of the man's lips edged into a somewhat pretentious smile. "That, in essence, is the Holy Grail War."

Kirei's father, who had accompanied him to this meeting, then spoke. "In addition, there has always been an unspoken agreement between the seven competitors that the event is to be kept secret, and out of the public's eye. Of course, in order to ensure that this unspoken rule is kept and enforced, a member of the Holy Church is chosen as the War's overseer."

"Is that really a wise course of action, for one of us to be presiding over a heathen contest such as this?"

The man in red refilled his empty glass. "But of course. It's a simple matter of logic and priority. A member of the magus association would be too partial to one participant over the others. An outside party with no attachments, however, can be trusted to be impartial, so as to ensure a degree of fairness in the War."

He then raised his glass and gestured towards the older priest. "Thus, once again, as the Association did sixty years ago, we have selected your father, Risei Kotomine, to be the Overseer of the Foruth Holy Grail War of Fuyuki."

"Father will be going to Fuyuki?"

As the man nodded, it began to click within Kirei's mind. "Wait... how in the Lord's name could any of this be considered fair? He has been a supporter of your family for decades. Having him as the Overseer would be a severe conflict of interest, especially as I would also be participating."

The man in red's smile remained on his face. "Put your worries to rest, Kirei, as that is the reason for why we are here…"

"What do you mean?"

The man took a sip, and then began to slowly pace around the young priest in a wide circle. Father then spoke and joined the magus in his pacing. "What you have to understand, Kirei, is that everything we have spoken of, is just the official background of the Holy Grail War. However, there is another reason as to why I have brought you to Tokiomi today."

"And what exactly would that reason be, father?"

Tokiomi Tohsaka then spoke again. "First, one thing that you should be aware of is that the Holy Grail of which we have been speaking is not the same relic as that which collected the blood of the Son of God."

"I surmised as much," the young priest admitted, "else that Church would never have allowed this godless contest to transpire in the first place, and we of the Eighth Sacrament Assembly would have been ordered to retrieve it without delay."

The magus chuckled as he took a sip of wine. "Very well observed."

"Though that is the case," Father then interjected, "The Holy Grail of Fuyuki is still too powerful a thing to be safely ignored. If that device were to fall into the wrong hands, then such an event would surely spell nothing short of disaster for the world."

Though his face showed nothing, Kirei had to make a slight effort to restrain his mind from imagining such a thing.

"As such," Tohsaka continued, "The best, and, indeed, _only_, course of action is to ensure that the Holy Grail falls into the _Right _hands."

"And I take it that these 'right hands' would be yours?"

"But of course."

Father spoke again. "Though they are first and foremost a clan of magi, the Tohsakas are also a family that have enjoyed a long and fruitful friendship with the Holy Church. We are familiar with Tokiomi's upstanding character and morals, as well as his family's ultimate intentions for the Grail, which are plain, and honorable. Thus, the Vatican has decided that it would be best if he were the only one to hold the grail at the War's end."

"So, you plan to cheat."

Tokiomi chuckled again. "Nothing so irreverently crass as that, I can assure you. It will be more of a simple… _bending_of the rules, rather than outright breaking them. Besides, when it comes to the Holy Grail, my family's desire has only ever been the attaining of a pathway to the Root of all existence.

"But, sadly, the other founding families, the Matous and the Einzberns, have lost sight of that noble goal with which we once shared, and now seek the Grail for more selfish and damaging ends."

"Thus, the only reason for my participation is to ensure that Tokiomi Tohsaka emerges victorious, correct, instead of fighting for myself?" Kirei asked, his tone neutral.

Tokiomi smirked. "That is indeed correct. As such, your father and I have already begun to take steps to ensure that no suspicion is gathered, which will require us to, on the surface, conduct ourselves as if we are truly enemies.

"However, as you have already surmised, we will, in truth, be working as allies. So, in order to proceed, your father and I have already begun the process of transferring you from the Holy Church to the Magus Association. Once the transfer is complete, I shall take you on as my own student."

"The orders for the transfer had already been given before this meeting,' father added.

In other words, they had decided to not give Kirei the benefit of a choice in the matter.

"Once the transfer is complete, you will head to Japan, where I will tutor and school you in the ways of all things related to magecraft, at least until you are of sufficient strength and skill so that you will be able to command a Servant in three year's time. Thus, when the battles truly being, we will be ready." Tokiomi punctuated this with a last sip of his wine.

"Do you have any for us questions for us, Kirei?" father asked.

An ordinary person would have had a thousand questions, not to mention possible grievances at being forced into such a thing without a real choice in the matter.

But Kirei, much to his personal shame, was not a normal person. But… he did have one question. "Yes… how exactly does the Holy Grail select its chosen masters?"

Tokiomi seemed a bit surprised at his question, but shrugged and answered. "While the exact process is unknown… it has theorized that the Grail selects as Masters those who are in need of it. However, I have heard that, in the past, there were a few cases of the Command seals appearing upon those whom it was not expected."

Tokiomi then seemed to note the meaning behind Kirei's inquiery, and smiled at the priest. "Ah, I understand. You are wondering why you were chosen by the Grail, yes?"

* * *

_Later_

The last thing Tokiomi had been expecting was that Kirei would give his consent to the plan without any hesitation. As he and Risei watched from a balcony as Kirei departed, Tokiomi voiced his concern to the elder priest.

"I am not surprised,' Risei admitted. "My son is devoted to the Holy Church, and would jump off a cliff, and into a raging inferno, if the Vatican so ordered it."

Tokiomi _hmm'_d at that. "In all honesty, I am rather surprised. From his perspective, he is being dragged into a bloody conflict against his will, and it is a conflict that has absolutely nothing to do with him.

"Yet, this is as it should be, and I hope that this coming ordeal will do him some good. I still worry for him, after everything that he has been through recently."

"Oh?"

"Yes…A few short years ago, his wife passed away, and from a terminal illness. Sadly, my son's mind went to a dark and foreboding place after that. He all but venerated her as a saint.

"But, for a while, we thought him fine… right until the moment where my granddaughter and I found him hanging from a rope in his bedroom."

Tokiomi could not keep the horror out of his tone, or off his face. "Good lord…"

"Indeed. Luckily, we had arrived just in time, and, after a short, yet turbulent, stint of rehabilitation, there have been no further attempts. But…"

"I understand. I promise that I will keep my eye on him."

"Thank you. That is all I ask. Perhaps this will be what he needs to be able to move finally orward from his sorrow…."

* * *

Kirei tread down the cobblestone path. Idly, he rubbed the red scar that encircled around his neck, as he examined the markings on the back at his right hand; it resembled two intertwined snakes around a dagger.

The Holy Grail War…. Could it truly provide for him what he sought, after all this time?

Could he finally discover an answer?

* * *

_New York, 1994, several months before the Holy Grail War_

"Just take a spoonful of this once a day, and you should start seeing positive results in the next few weeks."

"I will. Thank you, Doctor."

With a wave and a smile, Dr. Twice H. Pieceman waved away the patient, and readied to see the next one. It was a busy day at the clinic, but, to the doctor, it was time well spent, helping people, and curing their ills as best he could.

He was friends with all the other nurses and physicians there, and they all knew as as a good man, which he was.

Soon enough, his shift ended, and he found himself heading to a nearby YMCA, where he often coached troubled youth.

"Come on doc, you sure your old-ass bones can make it?" the teenager, and his current opponent said, as he made a few feints in front of the doctor.

Twice chuckled, as he dribbled the basketball. Vince was smart kid, and he had known the doctor ever since he was a little boy. He had a bright future ahead of him, like so many others, and Twice was determined that they would all achieve their potential.

So, even if all he could do was meet with them here for a late afternoon game of basketball, then that was enough.

Twice surged left, and then quickly dashed right, past Vince, and leapt up to hit a slam-dunk. "How about I answer that the moment that you can finally beat me, Vince?"

The teen chuckled. "Man, I don't know how you do that tricky stuff man. What kind of a doctor can slam-dunk like that? Stuff is next level, NBA crap."

"Oh, you know… eat your green vegetables, work out, and all that other stuff."

Vince laughed. "Man, you must eat a _heck _of a lot of vegetables, doc."

They both played for a few more hours with the other kids, until the sun began to sink low in the sky. After a quick shower and change, Twice bid them all a good night, and then drove home.

He drove past a few billboards, each with an advertisement for F.S. Industries.

It had been a good day.

After a while of navigating traffic, he reached his sumptuous estate by Lake Placid.

In all honesty, it had been a bit pricy for his tastes, but his roommates had insisted upon it. Though, in their defense, they were, all three of them, wealthy, and, as a plus, the area was rather secluded.

Dr. Twice H. Pieceman pulled up into the driveway, walked up to the front door, opened it, stepped through, removed his shoes, closed the door, and then walked into his house. "I'm home,' he yelled to the other occupants of the house. Nigel was home, entertaining their guests, but it seemed that Cornelius was still out on errands.

Ah, but that was the trouble with roommates.

As Twice unburdened himself of the day's events and went to take another shower, Nigel Sayward entered from restroom into the living room, nonchalantly lighting up a cigarette, and then took a seat in front of their guests, after running his hand over their forms, noting how their skin quivered under his touch.

He derived not pleasure from it. It was more a curiosity than anything else, in all honesty.

He then looked upon them, his face impassive, even as they still struggled weakly against their bonds, while the serums that kept them alive and cognizant continuously pumped into their naked bodies.

"Now then, my guests…. I believe that you were telling me and the others about the Holy Grail War?"

* * *

_1994, a few weeks before the start of the Holy Grail War_

Today… it was like any other day at the Clock Tower.

What that meant for Waver Velvet, though, was that he had to bear the unrelenting disdain and scorn of the other students and teachers of the Clock Tower, and all for the 'crime' of coming from a less than prestigious family.

Some days, it could be an absolute hell, though he did his best to keep moving forward, despite it all.

As he walked down the hallway (ignoring the taunts of many of his fellow students), he found himself gripping the heirloom necklace that had been in his family since before they had even been magi. It was two small pieces, attached to a simple chain; a piece of fulgurite, and the fragment of a goat's horn.

It was not a mystic code. Indeed, it was not even worth very much. Maybe a few quid to an interested antiques dealer. But it had been a gift from his grandmother, and, well, keeping it on his person always managed to bring Waver a bit of comfort through all the teasing.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he had not noticed that he had taken a wrong turn until it was too late.

Crap, students were not allowed to be in this segment of the Clock Tower. If he was caught here, he would be either thrown out, if he was lucky, or made to "disappear."

Just as he was about to turn around and hurry back into the main corridor, he heard faint voices. They were coming from nearby.

Despite the more rational portion of his mind all but screaming at him to ignore it and leave, Waver's curiosity won out, and quietly, ever so quietly, Waver followed the voices deeper into corridor.

It was Lord Bram, along with a few of his cronies, and what sounded like a young lady with an aristocratic air about her, despite her voice making it seem as if she were younger than Waver.

"The Grail War is approaching… still no sign of that fool Kayneth…. Few to no options left, it seems…"

The… Grail War? What was Lord Bram and the others talking about? Also, why were the talking about Professor Archibald? Why would they care about that asshole of a professor who had taken every opportunity to belittle and humiliate Waver whenever the fancy suited the elder magus?

Besides, all anyone really knew was that the man had vanished into thin air a few months back, and no one knew why.

Suddenly, Waver felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. Slowly, ever so slowly, he looked up to the hand's owner.

It was Professor Lev, one of the heads of the research department.

Bugger.

For a moment, the tall man looked down on him. Then, he smiled. "Walk with me," he whispered, and in a tone that was both gentle, and yet booked no arguments.

Without another word, the Professor guided Waver out of the side corridor, and back into the main one.

For a while, they just walked, side by side. Eventually, Waver could not help but speak. "Um… am I in trouble, professor?"

"No, Velvet. I assume that you have questions."

"Uh… yeah, I suppose. What were they talking about back there?"

"Oh, I'm afraid that it is all rather 'imaginary.'" Waver caught on to how the professor said the word 'imaginary,' and so let the professor talk. As they talked and walked, Waver noted that they were heading towards the library. "In this fictional story,' the professor continued, "let us pretend that, over 200 years ago, three families came together in… let's go with Japan… and more specifically, a city called Fuyuki."

Eventually, they entered the library, and the professor led the student to a specific shelf, took out a book, and then led Waver to a desk.

The professor set the book in front of Waver, and then sat opposite the young man, and continued to whisper. "Now, at this point in the story, these three families, to whom we will give the names Tohsaka, Matou, and Einzbern, decided to pool their resources to create an event, hypothetically.

"Now, hypothetically, this event, which we will call the Holy Grail War, would a battle between seven summoned spirits of ancient heroes. Seven Masters would summon these spirits. Eventually, when there is only one Master/ Servant pair left, then we'll say that the winners would receive a grand prize; a wish."

A wish? Ancient heroes!? What the hell?

The Professor then smiled amiably. "So, what do you think? Makes for a pretty good story, right?"

"….Why are you telling me all of this?"

Professor Lev shrugged. "Technically, I'm not. Technically, I am just having a conversation with a random student about a hypothetical and imaginary thing that I made up, and am probably thinking of turning into a series of novels about heroes, villains, and justice and whatnot… technically. Besides…" the professor's smile grew kindly, as he leaned in, somewhat conspiratorially. "I have always noticed how different you are, from most of the other students that study here at the Clock Tower."

"Different?"

"Indeed. Most students here come not so much to learn, but because it is an obligation to their families. They are rich, and their futures are already assured, even if their individual names fade away to dust. They have no real drive, no actual ambition, and no deep desire to change the world, or even themselves.

"But you… you _are different_. You want to become better, to ascend from your given lot in life, to grasp a star of your own, no matter how burned it might leave you. You are driven by ambition, and you will let nothing stand in your way, be it societal standing or personal wealth.

He slid the book closer to Waver and opened it to a page with the picture of an intricate-looking diagram on it. "If I were you, I would take this chance, Waver Velvet, that has fallen into your lap. Go to Fuyuki city, and enter this contest. Even if you were to lose, then you will still bring glory to your name, and to yourself, for having even just participated. Participate, and I can promise you that you will be changed for the better."

The professor then sighed, chuckled, and raised his hands slightly as he stood up and turned to walk away. "But, of course, in the end, only you can make this choice. Will you take this risk, and seize the chance to burn brighter than the stars themselves, Waver Velvet, or continue to languish in the obscurity that our society has chained upon you, your bloodline, and others like you?"

Without another word, the professor walked away.

Could he do it? Could he participate in this War?

He then clenched his hand around his necklace. Yes, he would do it. He was going to go to Fuyuki, summon a hero, win, and then show all those bastards who had dared to look down upon him that he was better, that he deserved respect!

Suddenly, there was a sharp pain on his hand.

From the doorway of the Library, Lev watched as the young man stood up fom the desk, with the book on the Holy Grail war clutched tightly against his chest. "Good luck, Waver Velvet." the professor whispered.

* * *

The very next day, Waver found himself on a plane to Japan.

During the flight he found himself making odd smalltalk with some of his fellow passengers; a young boy with one arm, and the boy's caretaker, an elderly priest…..

* * *

_Fuyuki City, a few weeks before the Holy Grail War_

If there was one thing that Kirei had learned about Tokiomi Tohsaka during the past three years, it was that the man had an odd habit of favoring arcane and antiquated machines over more modern ones.

Case in point, that strange device that he used to send and receive messages.

"I trust that no one saw you making your way here?" Tokiomi asked, as Kirei entered the dimly-lit study..

"I assure you, that I was quite careful."

"Good."

The red Magus then took up the message he had just received, and studied the runic script that it had been written in. His face grew… not pensive, but, instead, simply… a bit concerned.

"Who is this latest message from?" Kirei asked.

"My contacts at the Clock Tower. It seems that there have been no new developments to the strange situation over the past few months."

"I see. So, still no word about the missing Archibald Master?"

"None whatsoever. I do wonder what could have happened to him. It is unusual for one as esteemed and powerful as Kayneth el-Melloi Archibald to simply vanish like this, and on the eve of the Holy Grail War, no less."

Tokiomi then shrugged. "But it is of no great concern. We will simply adapt accordingly."

"I do find it troubling that two of the slots are still unaccounted for."

"I would not worry too much. The Grail will choose the rest, and those are usually Master with little to no talent. Whoever they will be, they will be of no challenge or consequence to us."

Tokiomi clasped his hands together. "Now then, it is time that we commenced with the summoning of your Servant, Kirei. But, first a quick spar to center our minds."

Another thing that had surprised Kirei about Tokiomi Tohsaka was the fact that the magus was well versed in martial arts. Apparently, before the creation of the Grail War, Tokiomi's ancestor had been attempting to reach the root through a state of physical perfection. Excellence in martial arts was something that was still passed down from family head to family head to this day, it seemed.

Before they could leave the study, the message device sprang to life once more. Once it had finished, Tokiomi looked over what had been sent, and his face grew concerned once more.

"Very interesting. So, he was still alive after all this time."

"What is it, teacher?"

"It seems that another participant has just been registered by the Einzberns, which is rather uncharacteristic of them. They have always prided themselves on the purity of their bloodline, and their sole devotion to the discipline of Alchemy. In hindsight, that is probably the main reason as to why they lost the previous three wars.

"But now, it seems that they are finally accepting outside help, having brought an outsider into their family over nine years ago. I must admit that, in this case, they have certainly picked the best, if they are being honest in this claim."

"Why? Who have they chosen as their representing Master?"

"A rather infamous assassin…Kiritsugu Emiya…."

* * *

_Germany, a few weeks before the Holy Grail War_

Kiritsugu had never really understood the point of bowing. It was tedious, terrible for your back, and all-in-all made him feel rather foolish.

And yet, here he and Iri were, bowing before the head of Einzbern Family, a being that was little more than the magecraft version of an AI that called itself 'Acht.'

The thing that masqueraded as an old man looked down upon the pair with the impassive disdain that was relegated to immortals.

Then, it spoke, in a rather elderly voice. "The relic that we have been searching for years has finally been located, in Cornwall," the old man said. "With it, you will certainly be able to summon that which is known as the strongest Sword-Wielding Servant."

Kiritsugu wondered if the thing's blood was red, and if that blood and white hair would laugh at him in blue notes as he…. No! Stop it! Not now!

He clenched his shaking right fist tightly through his glove.

He was going to need another dose very soon.

Eventually, the old thing stopped droning on and on, and Kiritsugu and his wife left the chapel.

As controlled as possible, Kiritsugu headed towards his study, where another dose awaited him…

* * *

"The Magus Killer?" Kriei asked.

Tokiomi took a seat, the pensive look not leaving his face. Kirei had never seen his teacher adopt such an expression before. "Indeed. It would seem, juding from your knowledge of his title, that even the Holy Church is aware of his… reputation. A most infamous assassin in his day.

"Officially, he was nothing but a renegade mage, who did not count himself a part of the Association, or any of its branches. Of course, behind closed doors, the higher echelons of the Association found his particular skillset to be… useful."

"So, in essence, he was like us, the Executors of the Holy Church."

Tokiomi let loose a humorless chuckle. 'You could say that, only this man was much worse. He acquired his title through his killing of other magi, though he had also been found in various warzones around the world. He is intelligent, amoral, ruthless, and, indeed, the very concept of 'collateral damage' means absolutely nothing to him."

He then held out the report. "Take a look for yourself."

Kirei took the report and read through it. Despite himself, his eyes widened in surprise and horror. "Sniping… poison… destroying an entire jumbo jet liner that his target was a passenger on… and…"

"Yes… the Shigura Island Disaster."

During his tutelage, Kirei had learned, briefly, of one of the most infamous events in the Association's history, though Tokiomi had refused to elaborate further on what had happened, save that it had been nothing short of an absolute tragedy, as well as the fact that it had almost torn down the veil of secrecy between the mortal world and the moon-lit one.

"They believe that the Magus Killer was the perpetrator of that event?" The priest asked.

"Yes, though no one was entirely sure. Most even thought that he had perished in the city's destruction."

"Evidently, he somehow survived, and made his way to the Einzberns."

Tokiomi gave another humorless chuckle. "That would appear to be the case…."

Kirei read over the rest of the report. For some reason, there was something about this magus killer that had arrested his attention and curiosity.

Something that just felt… familiar.

He then looked up to his teacher. "Would you mind if I borrowed this report for a while?"

"Not at all. But, now, we still need to have our spar, before we can commence with the summoning of your Servant…"

* * *

Kariya Matou ambled his way towards the Matou mansion.

He knew he made for a rather grotesque sigh, with his white hair, dead eye, and limp.

But it was necessary. For her sake. For Sakura.

Zouken had given him the ability and chance to save that little girl, if he managed to win the Holy Grail war.

The man reached out his hand and looked upon the three command seals that had been carved into his flesh.

After tonight, he would be one step closer to saving her.

He never felt it coming, not until his arm had already been severed from his body.

Before he could even scream, he found himself getting drowsy. As he did, he heard a strange voice whisper, "You will be remembered, Kariya Matou…"

* * *

In the pit, Zouken waited. Ten minutes… thirty… One hour.

As the two-hour mark arrived, he sighed, and his worms writhed in frustration.

It would seem that his idiot son would not be coming. Most likely, the man had dropped dead in the street, and would simply be picked up with all the other refuse.

Despite himself, the elder magus chuckled. It was the least that the ungrateful fool deserved.

It would seem that the Matous would be sitting out the Fourth Holy Grail War after all. Nevertheless, it would at least be entertaining to watch.

Oh well. At least he could train Sakura some more tonight.

Heh, heh, heh.

* * *

Cornelius Alba checked over the summoning circle once again, as well as his chosen relic situated within the circle, while Nigel watched with interest. Meanwhile, his favorite symphony, Beethoven's 9th in D Minor, filled the house with its sibilant and rousing sound.

The two guests dangled upside down and naked by their chained ankles from the rafters, their bodies drenched in sweat, and their mouths gagged.

Cornelius had returned home earlier and had volunteered right away to conduct and perform the ceremony, and so, Nigel had let him.

The smiling Magus walked up to them and caressed their heads and naked forms. He chuckled as they tried to recoil from his touch, with tears and mucus and saliva dripping from their eyes and noses and mouths. "Well, Kayneth, Sola. I must say that, having you two as our houseguests over these past few months have truly been enjoyable. I for one will always look back upon the intimacy of our many late-night, and mid-day, rendezvous with the pair of you with nothing short of happy fondness. Plus, I am sure that Nigel will miss you as well."

He ignored Nigel's groans at that. Such a prude. Not his fault that Nigel was asexual.

Alba's face then grew serious, as he withdrew from his coat a razor-edged scalpel, the sight of which made the two magi begin to scream in fear through their gags.

"But, alas, all good things are destined to come to an end. But don't worry, for your deaths will be serving a much greater purpose… the first step to my victory in the Holy Grail War."

Without another word, he slit their throats with a doctor's finesse.

He and Nigel could hear Twice exclaiming his adamant distaste and horror from the next room in which they had locked him (for his own good, of course), but they ignored the doctor.

This had to be done, after all.

As the blood and excrement and tears and fluids of Kayneth el-Melloi Archibald and Sola-Ui Nuada-Re Sophia-Ri began to leak onto the circle and relic, all the while they died screaming and gurgling, Cornelius Alba held out his hand, engraved with the mark of two crossed swords, and began to chant….

* * *

Outside, it snowed.

Within the chapel of the Einzbern castle Kiritsugu Emyia looked upon the face of the woman that he loved, Irisviel Von Einzbern, as well as the ornate sheath that she held in her arms as she used to their little daughter.

With this servant, he could make his dream, the dream that he had killed so many for, a reality.

His gloved fists clenched tightly at his side.

Irisviel watched her husband with concern and love in her scarlet eyes as she set the sheathe upon the altar that was on the other side of the circle. Were either of them truly prepared for what was to come next?

He then looked at her once more, and at the seals that were on both their hands.

A Master of Light, and a Master of Darkness.

With no more hesitation, Kiritsugu and Iri held out their right hands, and they then began to recite the incantation …

* * *

With a view of the glittering city gleaming in the distance before him, Waver stood before the prepared circle of goat's blood, the old necklace gripped tight in his fist. Overhead, dark storm clouds seemed to gather, but it did not really bother him. Besides, it was far too late to turn back now.

If not this, then there was also the fact that he had hypnotized an elderly couple who lived here (Australian, but he could have done worse, English pride notwithstanding) into believing that he was their visiting grandson. Definitely no turning back after that!

This would be his moment, his reckoning. He would win this War and prove to all those who laughed and jeered at him that he was better.

With any remaining hesitation expunged from his veins, he began to recite the incantation from the book…

* * *

The chants began….

* * *

_Let silver and steel be the essence.  
Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation  
Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall  
Let the four cardinal gates close.  
Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate._

_I hereby declare.  
Your body shall serve under me.  
My fate shall be your sword.  
Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail  
If you will submit to this will and this reason…Then answer!_

_An oath shall be sworn here!  
I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven.  
I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell!_

_From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three greet words of power,  
Come forth from the ring of restraints,  
Protector of the Holy Balance!_

* * *

As Waver spoke the last word of the last line of the aria, all of a sudden, a bolt of lightning let loose from the clouds above and struck the relic. As it did, the circle's glow shifted from blue to white, like the color of the lightning bolt he had just seen.

Then, a great energy burst from the circle, knocking the young magus onto his back, with the sound of a clap of thunder.

For a moment, everything was nothing but white noise and blurred vision.

Finally, as his sight and hearing cleared, Waver looked at the circle, and then up… and up… and up.

The man seemed almost four meters tall, and was clad in rustic, tooled armor of leather and iron, while his arms were covered from hand to shoulder in two gauntlets of leather and iron. A great, wild mane of brown hair surrounded his bearded face, while in his forehead rested a shining jewel. Across his waist was a great belt, decorated with runes, and figures of goats.

A pair of blood-red eyes gazed down upon the little…thing that had dared to summon him for a long moment, and when his mouth opened, Waver noted, with a bit of fear, that his teeth were fangs.

With a voice like the sound of a mountain's avalanche, the being spoke, as thunder rumbled in the sky. "Servant Rider asks of you…"

* * *

Kiritsugu and Iri looked upon their Servant, who was a tall and stately figure, clad in metal and leather armor that was both shining silver, and night-black, and covered in swirling designs of the hunt and dragons and other arcane and eldritch and light and dark things and symbols.

Their head was fully encased by a helmet whose design seemed a combination of a lion and a dragon, complete with horns and a fur mane. Strapped to their left arm was a large shield, the kind that was used when riding on horseback in either jousts or battlefields, and its surface was engraved with runes, as well as the image of a storm and a hunt. About their shoulders was a great furred mantle of white and black.

Also, they were mounted upon a great grey stallion, caparisoned in armor matching that of its rider, with a faceplate shaped like a draconic skull.

This figure seemed one who straddled the border between the noble openness of the brightest noonday sun, and the insurmountable aegis of the darkest midnight sky while a storm raged.

Strapped and sheathed at the servant's side was a longsword, with a pommel, handle, and curved hilt of gold, green, blue, and black. On their other hip was strapped a simple hunting horn.

They looked down upon the wary Kiritsugu and Iri from atop their mount, then turned its head to look behind it. For a bit, the Servant's hidden gaze seemed to linger upon the sheathe that lay upon the altar, almost longingly. Then the figure turned back to the pair and spoke, in a voice that could only be described as androgynous. "I am Servant Lancer, and so I ask of you…"

* * *

In five different locations across the globe, the same question was asked by five beings of unparalleled power never before seen in this Age of Man.

"_Are you my Master?"_

* * *

**A/N: Behold! The Not prequel to my most popular Fate fanfic, Fate/ Distortion. I give you… Fate Ragnarok Though in all honesty, due to the weird fluidity that the Fate series likes to apply to its timelines, this will be at once a prequel, and, at the same time, not. **

**I hope that you all read, review, and enjoy, because things are going to get crazy. **

**Also, what do you think this Lancer should be (You can already guess who it is) Male, female, hermaphidite? Let me know in the reviews, and enjoy.**

* * *

_Fuyuki City, a few weeks before the Holy Grail War_

Kirei and Tokiomi waited for what seemed like an eternity as the glow of the circle faded.

One minute… two… three… four.

After the fifth minute, Tokiomi could only sigh in defeat.

The summoning of Assassin had failed.

"What now, teacher?" Kirei asked, a strange feeling of shame coursing through his mind.

"We will have to reassess our plans around this… abnormality. Meanwhile, all we can do is try again at a later date."

As the two left the room, neither of them heard a silent, nonexistent chuckle echo about the room….


	2. Chapter 2

Fate Ragnarök Chapter 2: _Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall_

_The curtain has risen._

_The call had been sent forth._

_The Seven have answered._

_The First Act has started._

_One by one, all the actors shall enter onto the stage._

_But, how shall this play unfold?_

_Who will remain standing, by the end of the third act?_

* * *

_Germany_

The snowfall had ceased for the time being, and so, Kiritsugu and his little girl went outside to play their favorite game; 'Spot the chestnut buds.'

It was one of the few things that still brought a smile to his face these days.

For a few hours, that was all they did, just look for chestnut blossoms. Then, she had accused him of cheating.

He had explained to her his trick with the wingnuts, and then she had pouted and demanded that he apologize or forfeit. A moment later, after some pleading on his part, she deigned to give him one more chance, but only if he would play fair. In thanks, he set her on his shoulders.

As he felt his daughter's tiny hands lightly grip his hair, Kiritsugu felt his resolve only strengthen. For her, he would do anything.

For his little girl, he would march into the mouth of hell.

He was going to win this bloody contest, and he would return to this little girl of his.

No matter what.

Even if he had to break her heart for a while.

With a resigned sigh, he lifted her off his shoulders, gently set her down on the ground, and then began to say what he had dreaded saying for the past few months. "Illya, I'm afraid that mommy and I have to go away for a while…"

* * *

"What's got your attention out there?" Iri asked, as she entered the room with a full tray of tea. The tall Servant turned to look at the Homunculus. She was out of her armor at the moment, and thus Iri was able to get a good full look at her face.

Lancer had a face that seemed neither male nor female, and yet… seemed both. Yet, to Iri's eyes, it seemed like Lancer was a woman.

Iri had no idea that Arthur Pendragon had been so… androgynous in life, or that she had had polychromatic eyes and hair or that she would look so… wild. Her right eye was a pale gold with a black sclera, while the left was a vibrant green like freshly sprouted leaves, and a white sclera. Across her skin and disappearing down her neck were faint blue lines, while over her eyes was a solid blue rectangle of woad. Her platinum-blonde hair was bound in in a multitude of thin braids, and they were all then bound together in a rough ponytail.

Oddly enough, her ears were even slightly pointed.

Her garb under her armor was a functional, yet eclectic, mix of hunting mail and riding leathers.

This wild figure was King Arthur of legend?

She was silent for a moment, and then spoke, in her peculiar voice. "It is… perplexing."

"What is?"

"Seeing Kiritsugu and his daughter out there, in the snow."

The Servant turned back to gaze out the window, while Iri joined her. The homunculus could not help but allow a small smile to grace her lips at the sight of Kiritsugu playing with their little girl. "Are you really that surprised?"

"Yes. I had been under the impression that he had a much colder heart than what he is displaying now. He reminds me a bit of Herne…."

Iri chuckled, even as she filed away that name in her mind for further research. "Well, it is understandable how you might think such a thing of my husband. It's just how he is with most people."

"I see. Though, I do still wonder why he was less than enthused to see me, when we first met in that Christian chapel of yours."

Iri could not stop a chuckle from escaping her lips as she began to pour the tea. That garnered her a raised eyebrow from the King of Storms. "What do you find to be so amusing, Mistress?"

"Nothing. I'm sorry for laughing, but I was just wondering if you are still wondering about our reaction after you were first summoned. I guess we were just not expecting that King Arthur had actually been a woman in real life?"

Lancer gave a _hmmm _at that, no doubt noting the flimsy excuse. "That is not what I found to be insulting, so I ask that you stop lying to yourself. In all honesty, I never really associated myself with either gender, even as a child. It used to confuse Kay to no end. Some saw me as a man, and others as a woman. All I ever really considered myself to be was a King.

"But as my Masters, you and Kiritsugu can refer to me as whatever you may wish, as it makes really is of little concern. Though, I take it that my apparent gender was not the reason for your shock, and would thus surmise that you were expecting me to be in the Saber class, correct?"

Iri hesitantly nodded as she sat down, not wanting to offend her the ancient Sovereign. "That… is correct, I'm afraid. In your legend, which is extremely famous by the way, you are more well known for only wielding the Sword of Promised Victory, Excalibur, rather than any of your other storied weapons."

"I see… If that is the case, then, do you then believe that this will cause your husband to underestimate me, since I do not have access to King Arthur's most famous of weapon?"

"I don't believe so. It is true that we were hoping for a Saber, but my husband is nothing if not resourceful, so, I am sure that everything will be alright."

"I understand. As I said, it is of no concern to me. Rest assured though, my mistress, that I am still more than powerful enough to win whatever challenges this War may bring."

As the Servant then disappeared into a swirl of white and black motes, Iri idly stirred at her tea before raising the cup of the fragrant liquid to her lips.

She then looked upon the sigils etched into her hand. A part of her mind told her not to worry. Yes, Lancer was indeed very powerful. Her might, combined with Iri's healing and Kiritsugu's strategies, would surly pave the way to victory.

Yet, there was something about this Lancer that just seemed… unnatural.

Or rather_…inhuman_.

Despite herself, Iri felt a small chill trickle its way down her spine.

* * *

_Fuyuki City_

There exists in the world the sort of people who absolutely enjoy what they do and pursue their craft with a single-mindedness and boundless energy rarely seen in their peers. These were the ones that others tried to emulate as an example of devotion and other such working habits.

There are also those in the world who enjoy causing misery, carnage, death, and despair unto others, all for the enjoyment of the one committing these heinous acts. These are the ones who could only barely be qualified as human

Unfortunately for the bound and gagged child, Ryuunosuke Uryuu was both of these kinds of people.

* * *

Before tonight, the child had been enjoying a happy meal with his mommy and daddy. He had been looking forward to the weekend.

Then, this… person had snuck in, hurt his mommy and daddy until they stopped moving, tied him up, and was now drawing something with blood.

The child was scared. He kept praying, to anyone who would listen, for someone to save him, please!

* * *

He sang to himself, punctuating it with a jolly whistle, and drew out the blood with his bare feet and hands. As he did, he idly thought back on all that had led him to this moment.

The first time that he had killed someone, all those years ago, like an awesome leopard, before he had gotten his braces off, even, and how he had then begun to hunger for the knowledge of death. Now, he was going to be able to summon a demon, hopefully! So cool!

He paused in his drawing of the circle that had been described in that old book he had found in his parent's stuff, and walked over to the tied-up child, patting him on the head, and giving him an honest smile. "Hey there buddy, why the long face?"

The kid recoiled from his touch, and started sobbing through the gag, tears running down his little face.

Ryuunosuke felt hurt at this reaction, as he sat backwards on a chair he had brought in from the kitchen.

Sure, he had snuck into the kid's house, murdered and hacked up his parent's corpses, and was now using their blood to bring forth a demon, but that did not mean that the little guy had to act so impolite about it. He had used the comfortable rope, after all, and it was not like the gag was making it too hard for the kid to breath, right?

"Aw, don't worry. Guess what, wanna know something cool?"

More sobbing.

"Tonight, I'm gonna to finally summon a bona-fide demon, little guy, and you get to have front-row seat! I'm even going to offer it to you. How cool is that?"

No answer.

Oh, well, guess some people were just born rude and wrong. Tonight, was the night!

Deep in the depths of his gut, Ryuunosuke just knew that to be true.

Tonight, everything was going to change. It was going to be the best night of his life!

Of course, now came the important question. "So, let me ask you a favor, kiddo; if a demon really does appear tonight…. Than how about you do the nice thing and let it kill you, huh?"

He watched in disbelief as the kid, instead of answering, just simply began to scream and cry again through his gag. Why was he being just so gosh darn rude?

But, at the same time, it was so funny, that he could not help but burst out laughing. "Aw, man! Can you just imagine, buddy, getting killed by a demon!? What a thing to think about! Not many people get to find out about that s"

He then slapped his hands against his cheeks a few times, as if to get himself back into the game, and stood up from the chair. "Okay! Let's do this! No time for lollygagging!

He then cleared his throat and looked at the book in his hands.

_Fill… fill… fill… fill it up-_

"You're saying the aria wrong."

The deep voice cut through the tension in the air like a knife through melted butter. Ryuunosuke's head, and the kid's, shot towards the hallway from where the voice had emanated. They then saw who had spoken.

The man was tall, and well built. His most distinctive feature seemed to be a large top hat.

Even as the rude little kid renewed his screaming, the man in the top hat ignored him. Instead, the tall man (where had he come from, by the way?) walked over, and knelt to examine the demon-summing circle that Ryuunosuke had drawn on the floor. "Not bad… a bit shoddy, could use a few touch ups, perhaps, but…. Altogether very well done, young man."

He then rose, and proceeded to look intently at Ryuunosuke's face, as if the killer were a piece of meat. It wasn't really spooky, but more… odd. The man then began to rub his chin. "Hmmm… I am impressed; there is some very good potential in you. I simply have to bring it to fruition."

The man held out his hat, shook it once, and into his hand from… _within the hat _fell a small glass bottle with a purple eye floating in it.

He handed Ryuunosuke the bottle, put his hat back on his head, and then adopted a more teacher-like tone. "Now, say the aria like this, and hold the catalyst out as you do so."

_Let silver and steel be the essence.  
Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation  
Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall  
Let the four cardinal gates close.  
Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate._

_I hereby declare.  
Your body shall serve under me.  
My fate shall be your sword.  
Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail  
If you will submit to this will and this reason…Then answer!_

_An oath shall be sworn here!  
I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven.  
I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell!_

_From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three greet words of power,  
Come forth from the ring of restraints,  
Protector of the Holy Balance!_

Ryuunosuke had not known what to expect when he used the incantation that his new friend had just taught him, though it did sound kickass (save for the part about heaven and hell. Virtue was just so boring).

The circle flashed purple, and then, when the glow faded… Ryuunosuke's eyes went wide.

Had he finally done it!? He had, for a figure was now standing in the center of the diagram.

The demon (if that is what it was), looked like a very weird and lithely muscled clown. His skin was as white as snow and was covered in skintight clothes that had more color on them then a Jackson Pollack painting, to almost an eye-watering amount. There was a purple-black fur cape on his shoulders that seemed to furrow out like wings. Under each of his purple eyes was an equally purple, tear-like tattoo.

Wound about his right arm and down his left leg were long chains of what looked like stopwatches and pocket timepieces.

In the figure's hand was a large pair of ornate, clockwork scissors, which he snipped idly as he looked about. The cool-looking, ridged, and purple blades alone were longer than Ryunnosuke's arm.

There was just… a lot of purple.

He looked very cool!

Finally, Ryuunosuke could not keep his curiosity contained any longer. "Hey, there, mister! Are you a demon?"

The figure looked over Ryuunosuke for a moment, and then chuckled in a voice that was both deep and somewhat high-pitched, all at once, and without any sort of echo. "You could say that, oh summoner."

He looked around a bit more, and his eyes settled on the kid that Ryuunosuke had planned to offer to him as a gift. "Oh, you want the kid? I was planning on giving him to you as a gift, if that is the sort of thing you accept as gifts. So, have at it."

The clown guy seemed to ignore him for a moment then kneeled before the kid (who seemed to have wet his pants, again) and…. Untied his ropes and took out his gag. "Awww… what's the matter, little boy? Are you frightened?"

The kid slowly nodded, tears still running down his face as he was raised to his feet by the clown. The clown then bopped him lightly on the nose. "Well, that just won't do at all."

He clapped the kid upon his shoulder and head. "Tell you what, little one. let's make a deal. If you can make it past the front door, then that means that you are free. But, please do hurry."

The child slowly nodded again, and then hesitantly ran out of the room, towards the front door.

Ryuunosuke was a bit perplexed. "Hey, what's the big idea?"

The clown then held up a single finger, as if telling him to wait.

* * *

The night had started out bad.

The mean man had killed mommy and daddy!

Then the clown had freed him.

The front door was right there!

He was going to make it! He would be free!

The last thing that the little boy ever felt was something crawling up his back, like a centipede….

The hopeful smile never left his face, even as he ceased to feel anything else.

* * *

As the small explosion rocked the house, and the kid's blood splattered everywhere, Ryuunosuke felt gobsmacked.

WOW!

The clown man chuckled, and then sighed in mock sadness. "Ah well, it seems that the child was unable to hold up its end of the bargain. Though, in my defense, the little thing never specified whether or not I would be allowed to stop it." He then renewed his laughter tenfold. "Can you imagine, that split second before its death? Was hope still in its mind, or not? Oh, how I have missed that feeling, a destroying hope in such a manner that they never even realize it until it is too late."

His laughter filled the house, and practically bounced off the walls.

This guy was AWESOME!

The clown licked his lips with a really long tongue and then gave a bow, complete with a doff of his awesome hat, while his clockwork decorations rattled slightly. "My name is Mephistopholes, master, and I am the Foulest Fiend in all the World!"

He then straightened up, and leaned in closer to Ryuunosuke, almost conspiratorially. "So, in other words, and in regard to your earlier question… you could very well say that I am a demon."

The look on Ryuunosuke's face in that moment was even more ecstatic than before, at the little kid's death. SO COOL! He now had a demon as a best friend! SO COOL!

The tall man in the top hat smiled at Ryuunosuke's happy little exclamation and clapped him on the shoulder. "I think that this is going to be the start of a very beautiful partnership, young man."

Ryuunosuke turned and shook his hand firmly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, Mister! I can't wait to learn more stuff from you!"

The tall man smiled again. "Glad to hear. No, if you would excuse me…"

He then turned towards the bloody circle, newly stained with the child's blood, and held out his right hand, emblazoned with three symbols like the ones on Ryuunosuke's own hand. In said hand, he held the aged skull of a cat.

The serial killer saw what he was doing. "Oh? Are you going to summon a demon too, Mister… you know, I don't think I caught your name?"

The man in the top hat chuckled. "Well, my new student, you can call me… Flauros."

The circle began to glow once more….

* * *

_Airspace over Fuyuki City, the next day_

A slight ding marked the beginning of the attendant's monologue, as it cut through the recycled hum of the plane's air conditioning. "Ladies and Gentlemen, we will soon be making our final descent into Shinto Airport. Please buckle your seatbelts and place your trays and seats in the upright position. On behalf of the captain and crew, welcome to Fuyuki City."

For the duration of the entire plane trip, Irisviel's eyes had been glued to the window by her seat. The sight of the world from the eye of a bird. It was just wonderful.

Later, as she descended the stairs onto the runway, she took a moment to glance about.

It was all so wonderful! So, this was the country where Kiritsugu had been born.

Behind her, Lancer followed in astral form, while waiting attendants joined them to help Irisviel with her luggage, and then lead them to the waiting car, which proceeded to drive them through the city.

There was just so much to look at. It was just as Kiritsugu had described to her, in all the books, movies, and pictures that he had brought to her over the years.

And yet, it also seemed both more, and less than what he had described and shown her.

She just had to walk around and look at everything.

She then instructed the driver to stop, and she and a still-astralized Lancer got out, and walked around

* * *

_Meanwhile_

The cab pulled up in front of a glamorous, 14 story building, and it was one that was quite familiar. There was one in nearly every city around the world. Its name was embossed in stylistic letters above the revolving front entrance.

The Continental.

Kiritsugu never thought that he would be returning to any of these hotels in his lifetime.

When he had been traveling to the city via a boat, he had debated whether or not to stay at this hotel, with all that a it would entail. Eventually, its practicality won out.

With a sigh, he entered the lobby. Despite it being the afternoon, there were only a few guests out and about. Most of them were reclining at the bar or seated in the lobby.

As he strode to the front desk, he knew that they were all watching him.

Kiritsugu withdrew his hand from his coat pocket, put a gold coin down on the table, and then dinged the desk bell. A moment later, the concierge arrived, a woman who appeared to be of Japanese and Somalian descent.

She looked at him, the coin, and then gave a polite smile and a small bow. "Hello, Emiya-san. I must say that you being here surprises us. It would seem that reports of your retirement/ death were greatly exaggerated."

"For the most part, Izanami."

"Indeed. Management had been most worried, ever since Shigura City…"

Kiritsugu raised his right hand slightly. The concierge took the hint. "But that is irrelevant as of now. So, you are here for a room?"

"Yes."

"How long will you be staying with us?"

"Not sure, but, for now, let's make it three weeks."

"Very good. Just let us know in advance if you wish to extend you stay. One question… will your time in the city be spent under the sun, or within the moonlight?"

"Moonlight."

"Understood. Your bags will be promptly brought up to your room. Room 656."

She reached down under the desk and handed the magus killer a room key. "Will there be anything else?"

"Yes. Is the Sommelier here?"

"Indeed. I shall let him know to expect you at your leisure."

"Thank you, Izanami."

"My pleasure. Will that be all?"

"For now."

The concierge smiled, and then bowed slightly to Kiritsugu. "Very good. Then the behalf of the Continental, Emiya-san, we welcome you back."

It was exactly like how he remembered the Continental rooms appearing; austere, tastefully understated in decoration and yet rich in design and quality. This one, of course, had a subtle Japanese aesthetic to it.

A part of him had hoped that he would never have to come back here again.

Once the Grail was in his hands, there would be no more need for the Continental.

There would be no more need for things like him.

His room phone then rang. A slightly weathered, yet firm, voice sounded from the other end of the line, in fluent Japanese that held a tinge of an accent._"I just heard along the grapevine that you had returned to our fold, Magus Killer."_

"Hello, Winston."

_"Hello, Mr. Emiya. It is good to hear from you. We must meet, face to face, so as to catch up. What do you say to tomorrow evening, at, say, 6:00? We'll have dinner."_

Despite his abilities, Kiritsugu knew better than to refuse the man on the other line. "Very well."

_"Excellent. I shall see you then."_

Click.

All Kiritsugu could do was sigh and massage his face with his right hand, reluctantly, as he sat on the bed.

A moment later, he got up.

Tonight was going to be a busy evening, and, as such, it was time to see the Sommelier.

* * *

_Evening_

Iri felt the salt water and sand curl around her ankles and between her toes. It was such a strange and pleasant sensation. After a fun day in the city, she and Lancer had traveled to the ocean, where the Servant could finally astralize into solid form, away from unwanted eyes.

On the beach, Lancer watched her from atop her steed, like a knight watching her sworn lady, with one hand on the reigns, and the other on the hilt of her sword.

Iri looked up to the mounted king. "It's rather fun, isn't it, to be escorted around a strange and exotic town all day by a gallant and dashing knight?"

Lancer's unsmiling and beautiful face adopted a strange light to it as she titled her head. "Is that what you think I am, Mistress? A noble and dashing knight?"

"But of course. You are without a doubt a most excellent chaperone as well.

Lancer looked at her with her mismatched eyes for a long moment, and then inclined her head towards Iri as she slightly bowed, along with a hand over her heart. "…Your words truly honor me, Mistress."

Iri then looked out towards the sea. "It seems like an endless mirror that stretches far out beyond the horizon, reflecting the night sky in its entirety."

"Indeed, mistress."

Iri continued gazing about at the water, the stars, and the moon, which was nearly full. "Lancer?"

"Yes?"

"What is your opinion, about the sea?"

Though her back was turned towards the mounted Lancer, Iri could feel The King of Knight's eyes, as they swept over the endless expanse of water. "Personally, I never gave it much thought. It was just something that existed. There were many in my country who found it to be nothing less than an source of endless misery, as it always carried foreign invaders to our shores, or drowned their friends and loved ones in its icy depths.

"But I once knew a very odd seafarer, who thought differently. To him, the sea was mother, father, friend, lover, and child. It was something to cherish and be in awe of. He worshipped it, even as circumstances forced him to never again be able to traverse its endless depths, or ride upon its mighty waves and currents, barring certain conditions."

"How very sad."

"To some, yes. But he never held any hatred in his heart towards the circumstances, or towards those who had cursed him to such a fate. In fact, he once told me that it was the very thought and dream of the sea that gave him hope and comfort, even as it was barred to him.

"So, in essence, I suppose you are right when you said the sea is like a mirror, reflecting everything back. It reflects what others see, and can show us what we truly are."

Iri did not know what to say to that. It might have been her imagination, but, when Lancer had told her that story, it had seemed like there had been a wistful, almost sad, timbre to the Servant of the Lance's tone.

The homunculus then turned to look at the king, only to find her still staring, out towards the sea.

Then, Lancer's head suddenly shot up, and she looked towards the city, as her armor materialized, and her horse snorted. "What's wrong?" Iri inquired, as she rushed out of the water, and put back on her stockings and shoes.

"A Servant is coming."

Iri was silent, and then smiled the King of Britain. "Well then, we better not be rude. Shall we go and greet them?"

Lancer nodded. "Of course, Mistress."

A moment later, they galloped off towards the city.

* * *

Waver was starting to wonder if he was being punished for some sort of karmic imbalance that had been committed in a previous life. He was also trying hard, _really _hard to not bash his head in frustration upon every hard surface that he came across.

Why was the nineteen-year old magus-in-training feeling this way, you may ask?

Well, it could have been a number of things; hormones, the stress of being in a foreign country by himself, the fact that he was now participating in a secret battle between magi for a Wish, etc….

But

no. The primary reason was his servant, Rider.

Upon asking if Waver was his Master, the giant had then grabbed Waver by encircling one massive paw around his waist, raised him high off the ground, and had all but roared the question again right into the boy's face (giving Waver a _very _clear view of the Servant's fanged mouth).

After a moment of voiceless terror, the giant had shaken him, and had then threatened to eat Waver if he did not answer.

So, of course, Waver had stammered out that yes, he was the giant's master.

The Servant had looked at him strangely for a long moment after Waver had answered. Then, he had bellowed out a burst of laughter, shook Waver again before dropping him to the ground, and had then declared that they 'were going to win this Fucking War!'

At that moment, though he would not admit it, Waver had actually felt… confident.

But then the Servant had ruined the moment by belching, and then began to whine, asking for something to eat, and for somewhere to explore.

Waver had then swiftly that the man… giant… beast-thing… _Servant _was difficult, a bit belligerent, childish, and, to top it all off, could not even go into spirit form!

That had been a long and trying half-hour, full of yelling, laughing, begging, and exclamations of disbelief and stress.

Rider had done the laughing, and Waver had done everything else. Then, the giant had sped off into the forest.

When Waver had finally caught up to him, he had somehow tracked down a deer, and was eating it… raw.

Then, the brute had actually thought he wanted a piece.

Waver had not screamed in disgust. He did not scream. He had simply… exclaimed.

After his 'meal,' the giant had belched, right in his face, and then loudly demanded that they find something to do.

Since hiding him was not an option, Waver had been forced to reconfigure the McKenzie's hypnosis, so that he could convince them that Rider, a five-meter tall giant dressed like a barbarian, was his cousin from abroad, and that he had lost his clothes on the flight over.

…..

…..

Yeah, even he still wondered how that had worked.

The next day, the giant had incessantly demanded that Waver take him into the city. After finally agreeing, they had wandered about the city for the entire day and had decreased the weight of Waver's wallet very significantly.

At that point, Waver would not be afraid to admit that he had wept, if at least a bit, and only out of stress.

Of course, the fact that the giant had refused to answer any of Waver's questions about who he was had not helped either.

Finally, after a long day, the duo had returned home

Because the Servant was too big to fit indoors, the Mackenzie had made Rider a makeshift bed outside.

Now, the brute was incessantly tapping against the window with his finger.

Finally, Waver unzipped himself from his sleeping bag, and went to the window to open it. "What!? What is it!?" Waver exclaimed.

The next thing he knew, Rider had gripped him around his waist again, yanked him out of the window, and brought Waver down to his now very close face. "I can sense some other servants! Let's go! I want to fight!"

Before Waver could voice anything, all he saw was a burst of lightning….

* * *

Iri held tightly to Lancer's waist as the Servant's steed raced towards the docks. Then, the horse slowed to a halt, and Lancer gestured to Iri to dismount.

A moment later, far across from where they stood, a bright and large lightning bolt struck the ground with a bright flash. Overhead, thunder rumbled.

Then, from where the lightning struck emerged a massive figure. It seemed over five meters tall and dressed in furs and leathers and metal bits of armor. He had a great mane and beard of red hair. Gripped in one of his massive hands was a young boy, who the giant set down. A moment later, the boy bent over and puked. After the giant laughed at the boy's misfortune, he then turned to look at Iri and Lancer.

He then smiled.

Iri had never seen a person so huge before. Every inch of the giant seemed covered in muscle and lightning.

Lancer trotted forwards on her steed. Her shielded arm gripped the reigns, while the other held what seemed a large and concentrated cone of swirling air.

The giant looked lancer over, and then… sniffed the air. A moment later, he spoke, in a deep and rumbling and loud voice. "You smell familiar, Servant-who-is-not-Rider. Have we battled before?"

Lancer shook her helmeted hand. "I do not believe so."

The giant shrugged. "Ah well, it doesn't matter."

His grin then returned, and widened, as the lightning that coursed about his form grew erratic. "Enough talk then. Let battle be joined!"

He then sped forward with a speed that belied his bulk, and Lancer urged her steed forward….

* * *

_Meanwhile_

Eliza Stanten tended the bar, as she often did on most nights. As a military kid, she had spent almost her entire life in Japan.

Once she had grown up, she had moved to Fuyuki city, and never left. There was just something... magical about the city.

In front of her, the seat was empty. It usually was. For some reason, no one wanted to sit directly in the middle of the bar.

She then started the espresso machine, as per the order of the man who sat in the middle seat, who had been coming here, and sitting in that seat for the past year.

He always ordered the same thing. That seat was never empty.

The man was a little on the tall side, though not too much. He was dressed in fancy, yet functional, clothing, with a loosened black tie hanging around his neck, and over a smart white shirt and striped red vest. His most unusual feature was not his hair; long, and red, with intermittent black streaks.

No, it was his mouth, or, more specifically, the seven scar-like markings that stretched over his lips. They made a somewhat grotesque picture when he smiled, which seemed to be often.

He must have noted her looking at them, and chuckled self self-deprecatingly as she poured him his drink. "A bad accident… a prank that went wrong."

"Oh… my apologies."

"No need to apologize. I get it a lot."

He took a sip, as she then placed his apple tart in front of him. "Excellent, just as always, my dear."

* * *

It was a delicious cup of espresso, and a most excellent apple tart.

They always were. He liked this little evening café. He liked the cook, and, of course, the barwoman, Eliza.

He heard the door open.

Ah, they were here.

* * *

Lester and his fellows entered the café. They had arrived earlier that day. The boss had gone all out for their fare; he had even booked them all on first class. That had been fun.

But that was not important.

As one, Lester and the rest slowly blocked all the exits, ignoring the exclamations of the other residents. A quick showing of their guns silenced any and all complaints.

Lester slowly approached the man with red hair. He looked exactly like how the boss described.

The man with the red hair chuckled as he sipped at his espresso. "I take it that _he_sent you all here?"

"Yes. Mr. C wants to talk with you."

"He knew I would be here?"

"He did."

"Heh. Guess great minds do think alike."

"We are only going to ask you once to come with us. We will not ask again. He wants to speak with you, and nobody refuses an invitation by Mr. C."

The red-haired man took a bite of his pastry.

* * *

As they spoke, the red-haired man noted the large gun that the nameless goon was carrying.

The red-haired man finished his coffee and snack, and then set down the cup with a gentle _clink _as he swiveled his seat around to look at the group, his arms and elbows casually resting on the countertop as he leaned back and chuckled.

* * *

At the sudden movement, Lester and the others raised up their weapons, the laser points all aimed upon his forehead.

He ignored the threat, and smirked, as he looked upon them all. Despite himself, Lester, a hardened veteran, who had survived Shigura City, could not help but feel… slightly terrified. "Let me enlighten you all to something that you have obviously not picked up on; the only reason that you little peons are here is because you must have done something that really pissed _Mr. C_off. Either that, or he maybe he simply didn't like any of you.

"In fact, you're not actually here to apprehend me at all…." At that, his smile shifted from easygoing to downright _monstrous_. "You're just a gift for me. I have been meaning to stretch my legs since my arrival."

His right finger then twitched.

Suddenly, Wally on the far right burst apart into a bloody mist.

They all fired at the-

Wait. Why were they here? Why was Wally dead? Why had they just fired at an empty chair?

Then, through their earpieces, Lester and the others all heard the voice of Mr. C, telling them to keep their weapons up and at the ready.

Something impaled itself through Lee's chest and ripped out his heart. As he fell to the ground with a wet splat, the perpetuator faded into view, and their memories came rushing back.

It was the man that they had been sent to apprehend, and he was… eating Lee's heart, like one would an apple.

They swiftly opened fire, while the other customers and the woman behind the bar ducked out of the way. The target dodged every bullet with almost idle ease, while still eating Lee's heart, and then blurred.

Then, Larry was sent flying, smashing the back of his head into the wall.

Edward lost his head, and his blood joined the others on the wall and the floor.

They all kept firing at him, and randomly, sometimes hitting some of the other diners.

Why were they firing?

Then he would appear, and they tried to kill him.

Then, the red-haired man appeared in front of Marvin, wrenched his gun away with no effort, and then shot Marvin in the face. Marvin's brain soon decorated the wall and floor.

One by one, almost as if he were playing a game, the red-haired man killed them all, and each in a different way.

Sam's head was torn off.

Fakir was sliced in half, somehow.

Roy actually unsheathed a knife and ran at the red-haired man. Without even look it him, the red-haired man dodged once and grabbed Roy's knife wielding hand. He then twisted and bent Roy's hand and arm so sharply, the loud _snap_, as well as Roy's shrieks of pain, could be heard over the gun fire. Then, the red-haired man twisted it once more, and, like a master puppeteer, made Roy stab himself several times.

Very soon only Lester was left.

Less than five minutes had passed….

* * *

The red-haired man calmly started to walk towards the last goon through the carnage, even as the man screamed and opened fire, emptying the entire cartridge of his SMG into the red-haired man's chest and head.

The red-haired man kept smiling and walking forwards. The bullets did not even penetrate his skin.

The nameless goon seemed unable to move.

Soon they were face to face, and indeed, almost eye-to-eye.

He then grinned, pushed the man towards him by the back of the goon's head with one hand, and kissed the hitman full on the lips.

The goon seemed very shocked by the act. Was he uncomfortable with his sexuality?

A moment later, a long knife that seemed made of bone and black stone appeared in the red-haired man's other hand, and he swiftly stabbed it right through the goon's neck.

Even as the goon struggled and gurgled and gasped, the red-haired man did not break the kiss, and veritably sucked out the dying man's last breath, all the while never breaking eye contact.

As the goon expired, the killer broke the kiss, withdrew the knife so that he could sheath it through his belt, reached up to remove the man's earpiece, and then held it up to his mouth, all the while still holding the goon's dead body, in an almost loving embrace. "I know that you can see me old man, and not only by modern means, but through all of these little flesh puppets. As such, I just want you to know that I will take whatever you can throw at me. I will be waiting.

"In fact, I look forward to us meeting again, face to face. But, first, I am going to have my fun here in Fuyuki. The War has officially begun after all, and I feel a desire to stick around and paint this town red. Feel free to send more gifts if you want! I look forward to seeing you soon, Mr. C."

As he crushed the receiver to dust, and let the dead goon finally fall to the ground, he suddenly remembered that he was not alone in the café.

He felt a bit sheepish as he gazed upon the other, horrified tenets of the café. The look on poor Eliza's face was very interesting. Oh well. "Sorry, ladies and gents… no witnesses. But at least you all will keep me full. And don't worry, Eliza, I will be sure to give your generous tip to your next of kin."

The others did not even have time to scream again.

* * *

**A/N WOW! Things have escalated and gotten interesting!**

**Also, yes, I have added elements of John Wick into the fic, along with one or two other things still to come. I just thought it fit. **

**Read, review, and enjoy! Let me know your thoughts, and your theories about who is who, and what will happen.**


	3. Chapter 3

Fate Ragnarök Chapter 3:_Your body shall serve under me. My fate shall be your sword_

The first thing to fill the air was laughter, and hoof beats against concrete.

Though both moved at speeds beyond that of mortal ken, for a moment, time seemed to slow the closer Lancer and the giant servant got to one another.

As the giant's lightning-encrusted fist scraped alongside the edge of Lancer's invisible lance, Iri watched as the King of Briton suddenly dematerialized her steed and spear and leapt towards one of the shipping containers. As her feet impacted against the metal container, she drew her sword and launched herself towards the giant, the silver edge of her blade gleaming and hungry for his blood.

The giant's forearm met her sword in another shower of sparks.

The giant laughed, and in less than half a heartbeat, his other fist was already smashing against her shield. To Lancer's credit, she was not sent flying, though she did skid back a few feet. But then, the giant was already upon her, fists flailing at a velocity the belied his massive frame.

They soon began to exchange between them such a flurry of blows that could not attained by any human in the modern era.

Saber parried, and dodged, like water around a stone. Yet, her own blows seemed to do nothing but make the enemy Servant more amused. His endurance must have been incredible. He was not even bleeding, though Lancer's sword had impacted and cut into his flesh more than once.

The enemy Servant boomed out more laughter as his fist impacted upon Lancer's shield again. A moment later, they separated, and each leapt back several feet, studying the other and preparing for the net clash. The giant's fanged grin was wide. "By my father's beard, you fight well, Not-Rider! Were you anyone else, they would have been sent flying by my blows! The fact that you have managed to remain on your feet is quite impressive! Truly, your place is Valhalla would already be secure, were you one of my people!"

"Why do you call me that?" Lancer enquired, though she kept her shield up and ready.

The Giant chuckled. "What else is there to call someone that is pretending to be my Class?"

Lancer tilted her head slightly. "You are the Rider Servant then?"

His answering grin widened.

Suddenly, he _blurred. _

Lancer was then sent flying back into the street, with a both of Rider's fists against her chest, a crack of thunder, and an explosion of dust. The giant Rider then sped forward into the giant cloud of dust.

Within the cloud of smoke and dust, there were more flashes of lighting, and then… a massive burst of wind that blew the smoke and dust apart, followed by the gargantuan man being sent skidding back. Indeed, he was practically flying out, though he remained on his feet.

As he skidded to a stop, the blood upon his face was apparent.

From the dissipating cloud of dust, Lancer charged forth, once more upon her steed, her invisible lance angled and ready to taste more blood.

With a laugh, Rider simply charged forward to meet her charge.

Iri was simply in awe of what she was witnessing as the two clashed once more.

This… this was the Holy Grail war.

How simply breathtaking.

How terrifying.

* * *

_Tohsaka Manor_

It was a most excellent cabaret.

If nothing else, Tokiomi liked to pride himself on his taste in the fruit of the vine.

It was one of his few vices and one that he took to with a restrained relish. This particular bottle had been aging in his family's cellar for 3 years short of a century.

Suddenly, through a transmission machine came his apprentice's voice. _"The battle has commenced, teacher. My familiar is transmitting the scene long range as We speak."_

"Are there anyone else other than the Servants?" Tokiomi asked.

_"Yes, there are two figures standing out in the open while the Servants battle. One is a young Western European boy. The other is a woman, also Western European, with long silver hair."_

The boy, no doubt, was Waver Velvet. A talentless nobody from a lesser and unimportant magi clan. He was of no great consequence.

But, as for the woman… "Silver hair, you say?"

_"Yes. Do you know who she is, master?"_

Tokiomi set down his glass. "I do, though, it is less that I know who she is, and more that I know _what_she is."

He idly began to tap at the base of his glass. Things had definitely begun to get interesting. "Is there any sign of the Magus Killer, Kirei?"

_"Not as of yet, though he is no doubt hiding."_

"Angle your familiar for a closer look but be please, be careful. Keep me informed of what you see, especially if the woman has red eyes. My own familiar will be there shortly"

_"Of course, my teacher."_

As the connection was then severed for the time being, Tokiomi began to consider his next steps. Perhaps it was time for the King to make an entrance. Meanwhile, Tokiomi then decided that it was time that he consulted his ancestor's notes on the First and Second War. If his suspicions about the White-haired woman were correct… then perhaps a new strategy could be implemented.

How very promising.

* * *

From his position high atop the shipping crane, Kiritsugu watched through the lens of his heavily modified Walther WA2000's AN/PVS-4 as the battle continued. The modified and enhanced semi-automatic sniper rifle was one of the Sommelier's more highly recommended "vintages" which "combined the light flavors of sunlight, and the heady and smooth aftertaste of moonlight, along with an impressive and manageable reloading and firing rate." Kiritsugu had to admit that, so far, the gun did not disappoint.

He recognized the boy as Waver Velvet. According to the files that he and the Einzberns had compiled on the other participants, there was absolutely nothing remarkable about the young magus, or his family line and crest. Indeed, the boy was even noted to be sub-par in all things magecraft-related.

A part of him was disgusted at the type of society that allowed a boy so young to participate this brutal deathmatch. On his own, he would be easy to pick off.

And yet, the boy's Servant was going to be a problem….

Kiritsugu had managed to get a glimpse of the giant's stats, and they were nothing short of impressive, if not impossible.

His lowest stat was a B++, and the two highest were EX rated.

Even from his position, Kiritsugu could hear the Servant's booming and thunderous laughter as he battled against Lancer.

This mad warrior was Rider? He seemed more like a Berserker than anything else.

Kiritsugu was admittedly impressed that Lancer was able to keep pace with the giant, though, of course, he should not have been surprised, considering Lancer's own abilities. The king of Britain would last, and perhaps he would even prevail, especially if the king used one of his Noble Phantasms.

Still, it would be better to be safe than sorry.

As such, perhaps it would be best if he took out Velvet now.

So, yet another child's blood would join the other stain his hands.

He shook his head of the memory of a little girl with black hair and inquisitive eyes, and then he slowly lined up the Walther's crosshairs with the boy's unprotected head. As he did, his mantra began to rattle in his head.

_Kill the few to save the many… kill the few to save the many…_

* * *

Waver did not know how to feel, other than both exhilarated, and perhaps more than a bit terrified.

Nor had he expected Rider to be so powerful freaking powerful.

Maybe… maybe this War would not be an impossible thing to win after all.

* * *

His sights were now perfectly lined up.

One shot through Waver Velvet's left eye, and the Rider-Class Servant would be taken out of the War. It would be quick, and painless. One less obstacle to the Grail.

The gloved finger of Kiritsugu's right hand began to slowly press on the trigger…

Suddenly, his right hand and legs twitched, as a cold feeling lanced through his body.

Knowing better than to ignore those instincts, Kiritsugu slowly angled the Walther away from Waver's head, and towards another area of the dockyard.

Familiars. They must have just arrived.

Better to take care of those quickly….

Then before he could gun them down, there was a bright flash of gold as a powerful voice cut through the night air...

* * *

_"What is this farce that I see playing out before me like so much trash?"_

The voice caught everyone's attention, and they all looked towards the direction of its source.

Atop a nearby lamppost that suddenly cracked from some unseen pressure, a fourth figure materialized into view.

The very first thing that Waver could think of to describe the Servant was _gold._

Then there was _regal_, followed by _terrifying. _

It was a man, tall and imperious, who was garbed in unique and ornate armor forged of gold and ancient runes and symbols and designs, while his two richly decorated pauldrons wer attached to one another by a golden chain across his breastplate. Under his armor was a long red kilt embroidered richly with golden thread. Connected to his back were two long, slightly curved, and single-bladed swords.

His hair was of two colors, both radiant gold and solid black. His right eye was a vibrant red, and the other was a rich and earthy brown.

He looked upon the other Servants with his armored arms folded across his chest, like a dragon would if it deigned to look upon an ant that it decided to acknowledge. They could all feel his power, radiating off his form like water from a sieve, and it was, to the humans present and watching, awe-inspiring and terrible to behold.

For a long moment, he did not say a word, and simply looked over them all. When he finally spoke, everyone present could not help but listen. "So, it would seem that more lesser beings have arrived to sully my already sullied garden."

The expression on his face then becomes nothing less than disdainful. "When I was summoned to this time period, I was beyond disgusted with what has become of my garden. Its people and current status have sickened me beyond belief. As such, a part of me was hoping that this little War would provide me with at least some adequate and distracting entertainment.

"Alas, when I look upon you two pathetic mongrels, it is made quite apparent to me that I shall be receiving no such enjoyment from either of you tonight. Then, there is the fact that neither of you have given me proper due and recognition that is my right. As such, your King commands that you prostrate yourself before me and beg for my forgiveness before dying like the lowly apes that you are!"

The Rider's answer to this imperious statement bellowed out into the night. "You talk a good game, you little gold-plated dipshit, but that seems to be all you are good for. Besides, I have met many kings both mighty and pathetic in my time, and I have to say that I don't recognize you at all!"

A heavy and stunned silence settled upon the are at Rider's defiant declaration. The figure's eyes narrowed at the Servant of the Mount.

Power began to flood the air.

Behind the golden figure, tens upon tens of glowing golden portals materialized. From within each came the gleaming point of a different weapon, each as finely crafted as the next.

But these were no ordinary weapons, finely crafted or not.

It was almost instinctual, in a strange and unexplainable way, but for all those gathered and viewing this battle of ancient heroes, they knew what these weapons were, just by gazing upon them.

Each and every last one of these gleaming weapons… was a Noble Phantasm, the crystallization of a Heroic Spirit's legend and Power.

As they each materialized from a golden portal, the figure's heterochromatic eyes settled upon the gargantuan Rider, who simply grinned back in further defiance as lightning wreathed his massive form.

"For that disrespectful statement towards my Royal person, mongrel, you will be the first to die, and rest assured that you will die _screaming_. So swears the Archer of this Hoy Grail War!"

The weapons retreated slightly, as if they were all being nocked and drawn back tightly upon countless bowstrings.

Lancer and Rider could do little but tense in anticipation and preparation.

The Golden Archer languidly raised his right hand. "Now, disappear from my sight, lowly rats!"

As one, the sky was filled with scores of descending weapons, all aimed towards the Lancer and Rider, and thrumming like the hum of a flight of angry dragons.

Before either Iri or Rider's Master could even scream, and before Rider or Lancer could even twitch, there was suddenly a bright and mighty burst of dark blue energy that enveloped the area...

* * *

Kirei had not been expecting much when Tokiomi's prideful Servant had entered the battlefield.

When they had summoned Archer, even Kirei had to admit that the First Hero was indeed a powerful Servant, especially considering his true identity.

As such, the moment that the gate of Babylon had been manifested, Kirei had been expecting the battle to be over in less than a minute, and that the other Servants and masters would be little more than bloodstains upon the ground.

But now, when the glow subsided, what he saw through his familiar's eyes left him actually amazed….

* * *

When the dust settled, it was to reveal an impossible scene.

Every single weapon that the Golden Archer had fired, they had all been blocked and deflected, and now lay upon the ground, inert, as they slowly dissipated into gold mist.

As the dust and smoke finished clearing, it was soon made apparent who had been responsible for the burst of energy, for he was standing strong and powerful between Lancer, Rider, and the Gold Servant.

Waver had definitely not been expecting another Servant to intrude upon the battle.

This fourth Servant was dressed similar to Lancer, only this knight's armor was pure black, with purple and silver cloth and leather along with the steel. His head was encased in a full helm, and the slit seemed to glow a dark gold. About him was a strange and dark miasma.

In his right hand, he held a simple, straight blade that was a fusion of Middle Eastern and western design.

In his left hand, the second knight held a silver-and-crimson broadsword with a vibrant red hilt.

All around him was the fading outline of what seemed to be mighty castle walls.

The knight looked upon the three combatants and his hidden gaze seemed to linger upon the mounted Lancer. He then turned back toward the golden figure, and pointed his read swords towards the now fuming man.

"So many toys," he said, in a distorted, yet smooth, voice. "Do you even know how to use all these pretty little toys beyond just throwing them about like a spoiled child, Archer?"

The Golden man snarled, and then reached for the swords upon his back.

"Mongrel, you will pay dearly for your interference."

He then leapt down from the streetlamp and descended down towards the black knight. At his back materialized ten stationary portals.

Without hesitation, the Black Knight leapt up to meet the Servant.

When their swords clashed, a clear _ding _sound echoed through the night.

There was no doubt that the two were experts in battling with two swords, and their movements were too quick for a human's eye to follow.

Slash, parry, riposte, lock, and repeat. Through it all, the Golden servant also utilized an almost steady barrage of weapons, they did little to slow down the Black Knight.

In under two minutes, their blades had crossed over several dozen times. They both seemed beyond experts at blade craft. Waver found it to be terrifying.

He also idly noted that terrifying seemed to be a recurring trend in the Holy Grail War, so far.

As the Saber servant leapt back, the Archer then sent a barrage of weapons shooting out from the portals at his back.

As the black knight landed upon his feet, his hands were already a blur as his blades deflected each and every weapon. Then, as he dashed forward, a deadly looking spear burst forward from a golden portal and barreled straight towards the Saber's head.

Without even pausing in his dash forward, the black knight twisted, sheathed his simple blade, grabbed the flying spear, leaned into his spin, and then sent it flying straight back at the golden Archer.

At the last moment, a golden portal intercepted the returned spear, and the two crossed swords several more times.

* * *

Through his own familiar, Tokiomi observed the battle, and the Servants.

Even compared to Archer's stats, the others were admittedly impressive, even the brutish Rider.

However, this fight was taking longer than the magus had expected, and, he had gotten a good measure of the abilities of the other Servants, and, of course, had confirmed what the woman with Silver hair was. The fact that she held command seals, though, was… interesting.

Still, it would not do to let the battle dragon on for too long. Besides, even with Archer's Independent Action upkeep, Tokiomi was still finding it hard to remain conscious, as the mana drain was beginning to feel rather severe.

With a sigh, he slowly raised his right hand, and his command seals began to glow as he reached out through the telepathic link.

"My king."

"_What is it, Tokiomi?"_

He had to word this carefully. After taking a deep breath, he spoke. "If I may be so bold, I think that it would be best if you retreated this night."

* * *

The Archer and the Saber were too evenly matched. The battle could end in any number of ways at this point.

As the two readied to dash at one another once again, the golden Servant suddenly paused in the battle, raised his head as if he were listening to something.

The look on his face was that of disgust and rage, as if he did not.

Despite the Archer's apparent distraction, the Black Knight did not hesitate in attempting to press his advantage. Still, the Archer managed to almost easily fend the attacks off, before letting loose a small barrage of weaponry upon the Saber. As the Black knight blocked and dodged them, the Archer leapt back, and sheathed his swords as he began to vanish into golden motes of dust and light.

"You have been spared this night, Mongrels. Count your _blessings, for the next time we meet, your heads will decorate my mantle…._"

They all looked upon the space where he had vanished, and then the Black Knight then looked back towards Lancer. Even through his helmet, Iri could feel the utter _loathing _that the Servant's hidden look imparted upon the king of Britain. "Until the next time, _Arthur Pendragon_," he said, in a voice that oozed utter disdain and pure hatred, as he vanished into dark blue motes.

To Iri's surprise, Lancer did not seem shocked that the figure knew her name. "Until the next time," she agreed.

She then turned back towards her first opponent, and readied her invisible Lance ,steed, and shield. "So, shall we continue our bout, Rider?"

The Rider scratched his head, and then shrugged and shook his head. "Nah, this has just gotten boring, so I think that my master and I will get going. It was a nice fight though."

He reached over and grabbed his young master by the waist with one large hand. He then waved to Iri and Lancer and gave another fanged grin. "See ya all later! Next time, Lancer, let's not stop until one of us is dead!"

There was a bright flash of lightning, one more bellowing laugh, and then the pair were gone.

Lancer looked upon the now vacant spot for a moment, and then turned towards Iri, her helmet dematerializing as she motioned her steed forward towards where Iri stood. "Are you unhurt, mistress?"

Iri waved the question away. "It's alright. I'm fine. But, Lancer, that Saber knows who you are. Do you know who that strange Saber was?"

The Lancer nodded. "Yes, I do. He is someone who was once both a dear friend…. And a most bitter enemy."

* * *

Waver Velvet felt utterly gob smacked. At least, he did after throwing up from Rider's weird way of traveling.

The Mackenzies were already asleep by the time he and Rider had returned. Hopefully, there would not be any issues about it tomorrow.

So, he had snuck back into the room they had given him, and then mentally reviewed the night's events.

All those Servants were extremely powerful, and it had been terrifying to watch them all battle.

But more than that, he was still reeling from who Lancer was. He had not been expecting to discover the identities of any of the other Servants on the first night (especially as he still had no idea who his own Servant was.)

As a boy who was patriotically proud of his native British heritage, Waver had, like many others, grown up on the mythology of his homeland, and, like the aforementioned many others, there was one set of stories that he always enjoyed above all the others.

They had been the stories of King Arthur, and his brave and noble knights of the Round Table.

That weird Lancer was King Arthur Pendragon, the once and Future King! King bloody Arthur!

The King of Knights, the greatest hero of England, wielder of the Legendary Sword, Excalibur… and Waver and Rider was supposed to fight against him, Waver's very own childhood hero!

This Holy Grail War was truly an unbelievable event.

But… what would happen next?

And, with all those thoughts running through his head, how would he get any sleep tonight?

Then of course, there was the matter of Lancer's abilities….

But, right now, it was time for sleep…

* * *

_Unknown_

"Wow! That was some cool stuff to see!" Ryuunosuke exclaimed at the projection on the wall.

"Indeed. It was most entertaining to watch," Mr. Flauros agreed.

"SO COOL! All that violence. Just awesome! Will we be meeting some of those other Servants?"

"Perhaps, if things work out as I hope…."

Meanwhile, Mr. Flauros' Servant, a wiry man dressed all in black, kept leafing through that strange book of his, mumbling all the while.

As Caster made the projection go away with a wave of his friend, Mr. Flauros then apped Ryuunosuke on the shoulder. "Come. It's time for your lessons."

"Okay, but then can we go do something fun afterwards?"

"But of course."

Caster then laughed his cackling laugh and began to chant and wave his fingers and scissors about. "Such fun!"

* * *

_They had never really bothered with genders. It had caused their father and brother no end of confusion, though they knew that Ector and Kay did their best to understand…. _

_They had always felt more at home in the wild forests hunting and riding and exploring, then they ever felt in the castle._

_The being seemed made of fur, scales, feathers, quills, claws, and horns. It also seemed to be garbed in hunting leathers, and one hand held a massive spear. _

_They could not see its face, save for a glint of fangs, and two piercing green eyes. _

_They looked at the figure for a long moment, and the figure looked back at them._

_Then, the figure held out its free hand. _Come closer, little child, _the being said. _Do not be frightened.

_Oddly enough, they felt no fear. Only curiosity, as they reached for the Horned being's clawed hand…. _

* * *

_When he opened his eyes, it was to the face of a kind old man, with gray hair and a gray beard. _

_The old man looked him over, and then smiled a kind thing. "Welcome to the world. You will be my greatest creation, and I shall love you like a son. Today is your birthday…"_

_Such a kind man… would he still smile, when he felt the dagger in his back…._

* * *

_They are whispering, from beyond the stars. He could hear them, and their voices were beautiful beyond compare…_

* * *

_It is better to Rule in Hell, than serve in Heaven_

* * *

_The tree was vast, and was at once both alive, and empty. It seemed like it was made of pure bone and ivory. _

_By the well, the giant waited. _

_"If you seek knowledge," the giant said, "then you will need to pay a heavy price. Are you prepared for that, young one?"_

_He did not even hesitate in his answer. "I am more than prepared."_

_He felt the rope tighten around his neck, as the dagger plunged towards his eye…._

_He couldn't breathe! _

* * *

With a strangled scream, Waver woke up.

* * *

_The Continental, 6:00 PM_

A part of him wished that he had not agreed to this meeting, but, the rest of his mind argued that he was unable to refuse. When residing in the Continental, there were rules that absolutely had to be obeyed, no matter what.

There were also some invitations that could not be refused.

In the courtyard where he had agreed to meet with the other, Kiritsugu saw two men talking. One was dressed in the garb of a Catholic cardinal priest and seemed quite elderly.

The old priest got up and departed from the courtyard. As he passed by Kiritsugu, the Magus killer's body and limbs twitched momentarily.

The old priest seemed to smile almost knowingly at Kiritsugu's discomfort.

The man that was left sitting at the table, and the man that Kiritsugu was there to meet, was not elderly, but nor could he truly be called middle aged. He was, instead, somewhere comfortably in-between. His hair was still mostly a solid black, with a smattering of gray at his temples. His left eye was a normal brown, and his right a strange color of green-gold that seemed to glow in a certain light.

It reminded Kiritsugu a bit of Lancer.

Indeed, aside from the clothes, the man had not changed one bit in all the years that Kiritsugu had known the leader of the Continental.

Winston Wednesday stood up from the table, straightened his dining jacket, and extended his hand toward Kiritsugu, while an easy smile rested on his aged and slightly weathered face.

"Kiritsugu Emiya. It has been far too long since you last graced the halls of one of my Continentals. I must say you look well."

Kiritsugu extended his right hand, and slowly shook it. "Mr. Wednesday."

"Please, call me Winston. You know how much I frown on ceremony." He then gestured to his side. "Come, walk with me. We must not be late for dinner. It would make my chefs most upset."

Despite the man's congenial tone, Kiritsugu knew better than to refuse the offer. As he walked with Winston, they began to talk once more.

"So, how are those limbs of yours?"

The Magus Killer made sure to keep his face impassive. "They are fine."

"Good to now. Even if you didn't take that shot last night, I was still glad to see that your skills have in no way degraded, even after nine years."

Winston then looked at Kiritsugu as they strode towards the Continental's dining area and were seated at a neatly furnished table near the corner of the room. "You must know that I feel more than a bit hurt, Kiritsugu. You go and disappear without a trace for over nine years into Germany, with us not even nearing a whisper of your whereabouts, and then, almost out of nowhere, you resurface, and with a beautiful Einzbern homunculus on your arm, a daughter back in a castle waiting for your return, and a powerful Lancer-class Servant at your beck and call to fight in the Holy Grail War, and yet, you don't give me or anyone else even the courtesy of a call saying us that you're back. You even nearly gave poor Izanami at the front desk a bit of a fright."

There was only one part of that sentence that truly caught the Magus Killer's attention, as he sat down. He knew better than to question how Winston knew about everything else. "You know about the Holy Grail War, Winston?"

The man nodded. "I do indeed, Kiritsugu. I am almost insulted that you thought otherwise. We here at the Continental do tend to keep one ear ever perked towards the wind."

Their first course, a hearty crab-and-lobster bisque, was served, and they slowly began to eat.

"I thought the Magus Association made sure any information about the War was kept top secret?" Kiritsugu inquired.

Winston chuckled derisively, and he then sipped at his soup. "Please, despite what those foolish children who are too busy backstabbing one another in the Association may otherwise believe, Myself and the others here at Continental know a great deal more about the Moonlit world and its myriad of secrets than they are comfortable admitting. Besides, very little gets by my eye, as you no doubt are aware." As he spoke, he tapped his left eye, almost knowingly.

"I am."

Their soup done, the second course was served; a simple Caesar salad garnished with avocado, caviar, and a simple vinaigrette.

"I assume that you are not going into this little Contest without a plan, Kiritsugu?"

"You would be correct."

The man _hmmed_. "I see, that is good to know…. If I may be so bold, than may I inquire as to what your wish for the Grail is?"

Kiritsugu did not answer for a moment, as he considered whether or not he wanted to answer.

"I want to save the world."

This time, it was Winston's turn to be silent for a long moment. Then… he burst out laughing and shook his head. Somehow though, Kiritsugu did not feel like he was being mocked. After a bit, Winston stopped laughing, and his face grew serious. "That is indeed quite a wish, Kiritsugu Emiya. Yet, with a wish like that, so grand, and so powerful in its simplicity, I have to know… do you have faith that you can win this little War, Kiritsugu, and that you will be the one whose wish will be granted?"

He had not been expecting that question. As their third course was served, Roasted Salmon glazed and cooked with soy, miso, onions, mushroom, and powerful herbs, Kiritsugu considered his answer.

"I am going to win. My methods will all but guarantee it."

Winston shook his head. "I was not asking if you know that you will win, Kiritsugu. I was merely asking if you have faith."

"… I Know I can and will win this War. I don't need to believe in that for it to be true."

Winston sighed at that, as if Kiritsugu's statement had not been what he had been expecting. "Faith is a strange and funny thing, Kiritsugu Emiya. It can make an army tear a close victory straight from the tight jaws of defeat, and yet it can bring empires to their knees. I would not discount it so easily, but, in the end, it is up to you."

As their empty plates were taken away, Winston's dual-colored gaze proceeded to bore directly through Kiritsugu. "I am not going to intrude in your little blood sport, Kiritsugu, and I will not judge you for your methods, or the depths that you will no doubt sink to. However, I only ask that you do your best to keep it out of the Continental's business. That, and… try to keep a little faith. You may be surprised by the result."

Kiritsugu nodded and stood up. "I understand. Thank you, Winston."

Then, he left.

* * *

As he watched the Magus Killer stalk away, Winston shook his head again. "God's luck be with you, oh sad and empty man."

An attendant then walked up to him, bowed, and then spoke. "There is a phone call for you, sir."

Ah, right on time.

He stood up, and went to the front desk, where Datsue-ba waited with the phone. He took it and answered the voice on the other side.

"Good evening…. Yes, we talked…. How are things on your end? Good, good… Indeed, the vessel is more than adequate…. Yes, yes, the plan is indeed moving along…. This will be a most entertaining War."

As he hung up the phone, he returned to his table, where a red-haired man was waiting with a freshly opened bottle of well-aged scotch whisky, and from Winston's own stores no less.

Winston smiled at the man who, until a minute ago, had not existed. "It is good to see you again, my friend…."

* * *

**A/N: Things are getting very interesting and the owner of the Continental has appeared. Yes, it helps to picture ian McShane, and yes, think about his last name for a minute. Read, review, and enjoy!**

* * *

Lancer: Arturia/Arthur

Master: Kiritsugu Emiya and Irisviel Einzbern

**STATS**

STR: A

END: A

AGI: A

MAN: A++

LCK: C++

NP: EX

**Class Skills**

Magic Resistance: A

Riding: A

**Personal Skills**

Giant Beast Hunting: A

Mana Burst: A

Erlking: A. (An odd mixture of Mental pollution, Monstrous strength, Summoning (hounds) and Charisma)

Blessings from the Ends of the World: EX

**Noble Phantasms**

Invisible Air: C

Caliburn: B+

Prwyden: A+

Rhongomyniad: EX


	4. Chapter 4

Fate Ragnarök Chapter 4: _Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate._

_Fuyuki City, the next day_

Cornelius was feeling very good today. The sun was shining high and bright in the sky, the air was not too warm or too cold, and the War was in full swing.

Twice and Nigel were already up when Cornelius entered into the living room area of the suite they had bought to live in as a base for the duration of the War.

Twice was in the kitchen, while Nigel was watching a news report on the television. It was annoying how all the channels were in Japanese, but, at least they all knew the language

The television reporter mentioned some garbage about a bombing, and a small massacre inside a local restaurant.

There was also some other drivel about children disappearing, or some such.

Twice might have cared about that stuff, but Nigel and Cornelius could care less. It was just ants killing ants, after all. As Cornelius headed towards the door, Nigel turned off the television.

He walked down the stairs (elevators were for plebeians), and exited on to the ground floor to see the concierge talking with their newest guest and friend. Though it was less talking, and more along the gentle lines of flirting.

Pathetic. And, to his surprise, the female ant was actually blushing.

The man was tall, and handsome, with long silver hair that cascaded down his back. Currently, he was dressed in a dark three-piece suit, with a purple shirt and socks. "I'm just saying, that you are very beautiful and that such a beautiful woman like yourself deserves to be treated well..."

Cornelius sighed, and then called out. "Saber."

The Servant of the Sword turned, and revealed his pale skin and yellow eyes. "Hello Cornelius, I was just chatting with this charming lady here."

"We need to talk. Stop wasting time like an ass"

"Oh, very well." He then turned back to the young lady. "Alas, duty calls. Shall we continue this conversation later, perhaps over a nice candlelit dinner?"

As the woman nodded and babbled, her face was still a blushing mess, Saber and Cornelius then exited the apartment building.

"Was that really necessary, Cornelius? I was just having a bit of gentle fun with her. Besides, she is rather easy on the eyes."

"You were making a complete ass of yourself, Saber, as well as the fact that you were using your Charisma skill, no doubt. It was pathetic. Besides, she is nothing but an ant, and, as my Servant, you need not concern yourself with ants, save as a source of prana."

The Servant of the sword rolled his eyes. "Very well, Cornelius, but, just let me have my fun. Was that all you wished to discuss?"

"There was one other thing… Will the Lancer be a problem for you, Saber, considering who she is? Will your past relationship be in anyway a hindrance for what you must do? My friends and I are concerned."

The Servant's expression turned hateful upon the mention of the Servant of the Lance, a frightening thing upon his handsome face. "Trust me, Cornelius. Tell the others that when the time comes, I will not hesitate, and I will laugh long and hard as the Once And Future King dies, gutted upon my swords..."

* * *

_Hongzhou Feast Hall: Taishan_

There were very few things in life from which Kirei could derive any semblance of joy. He had tried many avenues throughout his life, and yet, he had never attained that singular emotion in any of them. As a Catholic priest, one would have expected that he would find joy in the teachings of God and his Son, but, to him, they were just empty words, written by long dead man. He simply did not believe.

Perhaps, during his tenure as a member of the Eighth Sacrament, he would have developed a grim love of hunting down heretics and deadly monsters so as to protect the world at large from the depredations. Instead, it had all just become empty routine.

He had married a good and kind woman, and had even raised a child with her. Nothing. Not even when she had died, in that cold hospital room.

_You do care…_

So many paths taken, and from all of them… none of them had elicited anything.

None of them but save for one method, one particular way of thinking… No. He would not. He dared not.

The clatter of footsteps interrupted his thoughts. "Here is your mapou tofu, Mr. Kotomine," the waitress, a young girl named Mizune, said.

However, aside from… _that_, there was actually one thing in which the young priest had discovered a strange and honest joy, and that was the consumption of the mapou tofu of the Hongzhou Feast Hall: Taishan.

A few years ago, he had discovered the feast hall, almost by accident. Before, food had held little excitement for him. Indeed, to him, the act of eating had (and still did, for the most part) held no significance save for fulfilling a purely physiological need.

As the spicy Tofu made its way down his throat, Kirei studied the large file laid before him, all the while being careful not to let any of the food splatter upon the pages.

Kiritsugu Emiya.

Kirei's eyes scanned every piece of the text, while the chair across from him was empty. It was not the first time, but he could not tear his eyes away. He read how the Magus killer had wandered from warzone to battlefield all over the world, before all but vanishing nine years ago, after the quarantine, and destruction, of Shigura City. He always made sure to destroy his targets utterly, without pity, compassion, or any regard for whomsoever got in his way, all the while making sure to pilfer whatever knowledge and items he could.

The man seemed to be as empty and passionless as he felt, at times.

_Is he… like me_, Kirei wondered.

"You look like you're pondering something important, priest."

Kirei looked up. Sitting across from him was a man with red hair, and seven scar-like markings stretching over his lips.

"Where did you come from?" the priest asked the man.

The red-haired man tilted his head, and smiled, his seven scars distorting his grin. "'Where did I come from?' Now, that is the question, isn't it? It is one of the intrinsic questions that constitute our very being.

"Now, I could tell you that I come from far away, though you have, no doubt, already assumed that, from my lack of any features intrinsic to the Asian population of the world;

Or, I could answer with the fact that I came from the moment when a hypocritical cunt of man and a hypocritical dick of a woman had three straight minutes of terrible, unappetizing, and, quite frankly, sup-par sexual intercourse while the man's father watched and touched himself, though, as a man of the cloth, you would no doubt not be very amused by such a description.

"I could say all of these things, but, for now, I will say that I simply walked in through the front door when you weren't paying attention. But, don't worry, for I am not insulted. Besides, 'where do I come from' is not _the _question for you, is it? No, I think for you, the more appropriate question would be _why._"

The strange man then turned towards the waitress. "Now then, my dear, I will be having the following, so please, pay good and close attention; I will take an order of six of your freshest and rawest apples, one cup of apple juice, one of water, ad one of milk, a large dish of your finest lamb, which will be seasoned with ample amounts of rosemary, salt, mustard and applesauce, and then two large slices of your finest apple-based pastry to finish off everything else. Please and thank you."

Mizune was silent for a long moment, and no doubt very confused by the man's bizarre order, until the red-haired man held out three ten-thousand-yen notes. The waitress then slowly took them, and headed out to the kitchen.

He then began to crane his head towards the file. "So, what are you reading, priest?"

Kirei closed the folder, albeit a bit loudly. "Something that is personal, and that is very much none of your concern. I could in turn ask you why you seem to like apples so much, but I don't suppose that you would want to answer so personal a question."

The man smiled again, and the seven marks over his lips made his mouth contort most grotesquely, as the waitress set the six apples down in front of him on a plate. "Actually, I will very much like to answer that, unlike you, so guarded and answering. Why do I like apples? Well, a few reasons… First, it is because they are a very tasty fruit. They are juicy, and delicious, much like a woman who knows what she is doing.

"Second…. Well, it is because they are an honest kind of fruit. Not as hard as the pomegranate, but they don't come pre-cut, like the orange. With apples, one has to tease and tear with your teeth, so as to really get at that wonderful flesh within them.

"Finally… well, they remind me a bit of my mother and father, the hypocritical cunts. An apple was their downfall …so, every time I eat one, it's like I'm spitting right in their faces, and in the faces of those who condemned me."

He then rolled up his sleeves, revealing the tattoo of a fiery snake on his left arm, and held out one of his apples, a granny smith, as green as poison. "Would you like one, Mr. Priest?"

Kirei had had enough.

As he stood up to leave, the red-haired man then spoke again, as he began to bite into the granny smith, loudly. _Crunch. _"It's not really a healthy thing to do, you know, bottling up your innermost desires like that."

Kirei stopped dead in his tracks. Impossible.

The man took another loud bite. _Crunch. _"The more that you repress yourself, _priest_, the more that the pressure will just build and build, and build, until… well, I am sure that you already know what happens, and don't think I didn't see you rubbing at your neck earlier."

_Crunch. _He smiled that grotesque grin again while juice ran down his scarred lips, as Kirei slowly turned back towards him. "Tell me… how long did you swing from that rafter, before they found you? How long were you left choking from the noose? Two minutes? Three? Four?"

There was one final _crunch. _"If you keep searching for answers from other people, you will only find yourself to be utterly disappointed."

Without another word, Kirei left the feast hall.

Damn the red haired man. What did he know? Emiya would have the answers that he sought.

He had to.

It was now time to head back to the Tohsaka residence anyway.

He would find his answers, and this War, along with the Magus killer, would provide them.

* * *

As the priest left, the red-haired man chuckled as he began to bite into his second apple, a golden delicious. _Crunch._

_Thanks for the info, old man._

The priest would be an interesting little project. Such wonderful darkness that dwelled within that well-built form of his, it was almost too irresistible.

All he would need was just the right push….

Perhaps it was time for the red-haired man to visit a church. After all, everyone needed to confess his or her sins now and again.

* * *

Waver was beginning to feel rather tired again.

After the first battle, he had slept through most of the following day, though; it had not been a restful sleep by any stretch of the imagination. No, for his dreams had been consumed by the image of a man cutting out his eye, and then dangling from a noose upon a tree. When he had finally awoken, it had been almost dinnertime.

The Mackenzies had been worried, so much in fact that they had apparently called in a doctor.

"Feeling better, Waver?" Martha asked, concern for her 'grandson' apparent in her voice. It actually made him feel a bit guilty.

"Uh, yeah grandma…. I'm feeling much better."

"I'm just glad that that nice young doctor Pieceman happened to be in town yesterday when I went to Marker." She then turned to Waver. "He made sure you were all right while you slept. He was so kind, and we were all just so worried, dear."

Waver was not sure which was more depressing/ unsettling; the fact that a person had examined him while he slept, or that the hypnosis he had used was enough to make the elderly couple actually worried about him enough to bring a doctor.

"Uh, thanks, grandma."

Glen chuckled. "Well, at least you're all better now, my boy, and that's what matters. Come, have some breakfast. You are a growing boy after all."

Rider, meanwhile, was devouring sandwich after sandwich from the massive plate.

Tentatively, Waver managed to snag a few from Rider's grasp, and began to eat.

They were pretty tasty.

For a while, that was all they di, just sit and eat, with Rider's loud scarfing filling the back yard.

The massive Servant then paused in his eating, and turned towards Waver. "I want to explore the city again."

Waver had not been expecting that. "Why?"

The man shrugged his massive shoulders. "Just feel like it. Just want to move. Maybe find some more people to play with…"

* * *

After taking a hit from his inhalation mask, and letting his thoughts realing themselves, Kiritsugu lit up a cigarette, and began to pore over the files of the other known Grail War Masters, and the notes that he had assembled of what he could deduce of their servants.

Tokiomi Tohsaka; born June 16th, 1951. Fifth generation head of the Tohsaka family. Married eight years ago to Aoi Zenjou Tohsaka, a woman from a now defunct magi bloodline. The couple had two children, named Rin and Sakura Tohsaka.

Kirei Kotomine; born December 28th, 1967, to Risei Kotomine, the current Church Overseer of the War. He was a man who moved from profession to profession, and always just stopping short of achieving true mastery. Mathematics, science, etc… Then, before becoming the apprentice of Tokiomi Tohsaka, Kotomine had been a member of the Assembly of the Eighth Sacrament. Then, three years ago, like all other things in his life, he had left it, to become Tokiomi's apprentice in the Magus Association.

He was highly skilled in Bajiquan, and other forms of hand-to-hand combat, no doubt borne from over ten years of experience in the Eighth Sacrament.

Without a doubt, priest was certainly an odd case, and most definitely more than a bit dangerous… but, ultimately, Kiritsugu decided that the man would not be important enough to focus on for the long term, despite his abilities. Besides, he had dealt with executors before, and had a good idea of what to expect.

No, instead, that 'honor' would be given to the Rider Servant, The Golden Archer, and Archer's Master, Tokiomi. They would have to be Kiritsugu's main targets.

Rider would be easy, once Waver Velvet was eliminated.

Tokiomi and Archer would probably be more difficult.

Meanwhile, he would also have to track down the master of that mysterious Saber. Most likely, it was Kayneth el-Melloi Archibald.

Kariya Matou, the chosen Matou master, was also being difficult to locate. It was almost as if he and Kayneth had vanished off the face of the earth.

The Berserker, Assassin, and Caster servants would probably show themselves before too long as well.

Although, speaking of Kariya Matou, perhaps it was time to finally start winnowing away the competition. But, where to begin?

A frontal assault on the Matou manor was definitely out of the question. It was without a doubt guarded and reinforced by layer upon layer of bounded fields. He would have to be a bit subtler about it.

He then rifled through the various files in the binder that he had created for the Matou heir, and brought up the picture of a man, similar in appearance, though older, and with a face that was flush with drunkenness.

Perhaps it was time to have a conversation with the Matou heir….

* * *

Waver was beginning to come to the conclusion that the Japanese had a high tolerance for the strange and bizarre.

For some reason, no one in the city seemed overtly perturbed by the sight of a five-meter tall giant strolling through the streets.

Since leaving the MacKenzies for the day, the two has simply ambled around the city, from one end to the other, without really much of a destination in mind. For a while they had stopped at an arcade (where Rider had barely been able to fit), ate a large lunch, and then went to the park, where Rider had swiftly become a large hit with the other kids. Waver had simply sat and rested on the bench the entire time.

Fun.

As he did, Waver had tried, and failed, again, to figure out who his servant exactly was. The memory link was not helping, and the Servant still refused to divulge any information at all.

Now, as the sun began to set, Waver was already feeling tired again, and hungry again. But, he was unwilling to find a place to eat, mostly because he did not want to have to support Rider's massive appetite again, not after the… lunch incident from earlier.

But what now? He did not really feel like going back the MacKenzies at the moment. "It's you. How have you been?"

The voice cut through his thoughts, and he turned towards the source. To his surprise, it was the one-armed boy from the plane, along with his grandfather, the priest.

The old priest was accompanying the boy, and he was also pushing a wheelchair. Strapped to it was another young boy dressed in blue with long brown hair, porcelain-like skin, no arms, and no legs. He looked bored at everything, and he also looked more like a girl than a boy. "Hello. It's nice to see you again… Waver, was it?" the boy with one arm asked, a genial smile on his young face, as he held out his hand.

Though Waver did not once recall ever giving the boy his name when they met on the plane, his now very tired and hungry brain was unable to register the memory, and so he simply shrugged. "Yeah. What are you doing here?"

"My grandfather and I are just here, visiting my cousin. My name is Merem."

The boy with no limbs inclined his head. "Hello, British boy. Name's Kaie, Merem's cousin," he said, in fluent English, and without a trace of an accent.

The elderly priest then gave a small bow. "And I am father Rex Carborundum Solomon, the lucky grandfather of these two fine young boys."

Waver shook Merem's hand. "It's… nice to meet you all. I'm Waver Velvet. This is my friend, Rider."

Rider enthusiastically waved at the group, a fanged smile on his face.

"So, what are you doing here, Waver and Rider?" Merem asked.

"Just… wandering about. Trying to find a place to eat. Not having much luck."

The old priest then spoke up. "Oh, then, in that case, how about you join us? We were just on our way to meet an old family friend for dinner at his new restaurant, near the forest."

"Oh, no, we couldn't…"

"No, no, we just have to insist. I am most sure that our friend would not mind two more at the table this evening."

Seeing as he would not win this argument, the nineteen-year-old Master decided to agree. And so, the now very strange group made its way through the city, while the sun slowly set.

As they walked, Waver was finding it hard to not keep sneaking looks at the boy in the wheelchair. It did not go unnoticed. "I was born with a birth defect. But, if you don't stop staring at me, British boy, I will crawl over to you, and bite your eyes out."

Those threats definitely made Waver stop starring almost immediately, and it made Rider laugh.

The old priest chuckled. "You must excuse Kaie, as he's always been a bit surely. Some would say it's a coping mechanism. But, he is more bark than bite."

After a now silent, and long walk to the outskirts of the city, they all found themselves in front of what seemed to be a multi-level, elegant-yet-rustic-looking restaurant. To Waver's surprise, the sign was in Celtic, and it read _An Fiach Fiáin_. It looked pricy. There was even an outdoor area for Rider to wait in, while the rest went inside.

The interior of the building was just as elegant of the exterior, with somber, yet warm, lighting, and burnished oak floors and tables. It almost reminded Waver of the Clock Tower.

"This is the place? It looks very expensive."

The old priest nodded. "Our friend has always had a flair for the dramatic and expensive. Speaking of which, there he is now."

The priest gestured to the bar near the back, where a man sat, dressed in an expensive-looking suit. The man stood up, and walked over to them, a genial smile on his face. He clapped his hand upon the old priest's shoulder, and spoke, in a deep voice. "Hello again, my good friend. It has just been so very long since last we met, and I happy to see that you and your grandchildren are still well."

"That we are, Winston. Thank you for meeting with us."

The man gestured then about him. "Any time, my old and faithful friend. You like it? One of my newest ventures, and, so far, it has been so very profitable. I believed that it could happen, and it did. Who knew that the Japanese would discover a taste for Celtic cuisine?"

He then looked at Waver, as if just noticing him for the first time. "Who is this?"

"Oh, um, my name is Waver Velvet, sir."

The man looked at him for a long moment, in an almost scrutinizing manner. He then smiled again, and put forward his right hand. "An absolute pleasure to meet you, Mr. Velvet. My name is Winston Wednesday. You can call me Winston, or Mr. Wednesday. Either works for me."

They shook hands. The man had a strong grip.

Mr. Wednesday then clapped his hands together. "Now then, I am sure you are all feeling rather hungry. Come; let's all get something to eat. We'll all eat outside, to accommodate your large friend…"

* * *

Lancer's first life had been defined by bravery. They had always fought against insurmountable odds, terrible beasts, magic, and even a dragon or two, and all without flinching.

Now though?

As Lancer's hands tightly gripped the sides of their seat, they considered the very real possibility that they were about to discover what fear truly was….

* * *

Iri was having the time of her life. After spending all of yesterday cooped up in the caslte, she had had Lancer take her into the city for a fun day. Now, though it was time to head back, Iri had demanded to take the wheel, instead of Lancer (though she could drive very well).

This was just so much fun, espescially when she swerved from lane to lane, and when she made it go faster by slamming down on the gas pedal! Such fun, and they were going so fast!

"Have you ever driven this… contraption before, my lady?" Lancer asked, slowly.

"Only once. Of all the toys that Kiritsugu has given me over the years, this is by far my favorite!"

"Do you not think it more prudent that we use a professional driver?"

"Oh no, no, no! That would do at all." _Screech. _"If we were to be attacked, than all we would be doing would be just dragging some poor bystander into the mix. Better to keep such things to ourselves, after all, right?"

"I… supposed so," Lancer said, as Iri swerved back to the right side and around some passing cars.

"Besides, this way, we can have a lot more fun together!"

* * *

Indeed, Lancer was now certain that they had discovered the source of fear; being driven around by the lady Iri.

It was a fate that Lancer would not wish upon their most vile of foes.

Not even… _him_.

* * *

"Do you remember what I taught you about homunculi, Kirei?"

His pupil seemed a bit confused at the question. Tokiomi did not blame him, as the question did seem rather random.

Still, to his credit, the young priest answered. "Yes, they are essentially false humans created through alchemy, instead of natural reproduction, and thus are always gifted with powerful mage circuits. May I inquire as to why this is relevant?"

Tokiomi then held up an aged journal. "According to my ancestor's notes, the Grail is actually divided into two parts; the Greater Grail, and the Lesser Grail. The Lesser Grail, provided by the Einzberns, has always been a female homunculus of a certain make and model."

Kirei seemd a bit confused, so Tokiomi decided to elaborate. "Think of them as a lock and a key. Without the Lesser Grail, the Greater Grail is just a huge mass of unregulated and directionless prana and energy. Yet, in the reverse, without the Great Grail, the Lesser Grail is essentially useless. Without the key, the lock remains closed, and yet, without the lock, the key is all but useless.

"When a servant dies, the become energy, and are absorbed into the Lesser Grail. When six of the Seven have been defeated and absorbed, the Lesser Grail will have enough energy to give access to the Great Grail. Do you understand?"

Tokiomi could see Kirei's mind beginning to connect the dots. "Whoever holds the Lesser Grail, will hold the true Key to winning the War."

"Indeed."

"…And you believe that the homunculus woman is this 'Lesser Grail?'"

"I most certainly do. She looks more than similar enough to the previous ones, down to the hair and height. The Einzberns have always been a rather unimaginative family when it comes to designing their homunculi, and have always modeled their Lesser Grails after their first Einzbern master, a woman by the name of Justeaze."

Then, from the other side of the room, Archer spoke up. "Intriguing. It would seem that I have somewhat underestimated you, my vassal. Your insight is passable, to say the least."

Tokiomi turned and bowed deeply to the Golden Archer, who was currently reclined upon a divan, with a full glass of wine in his hand. "You beneficence truly humbles me, Your Majesty. I am pleased that you find my planning to be adequate, oh Gilgamesh."

The First hero snorted, and then sipped at his wine. "Don't test me, Tokiomi. While I still find your end goal for the Grail to be exceedingly dull, perhaps you may yet impress and entertain me with your methods to attain your boring and dull goal. As such, tell me what plans do you have for this 'Lesser Grail, and how are we to attain it?"

At that, Tokiomi could not help but smile. "For now, we will wait, watch, and learn, all the while seeking out and annihilating the other Servants and their masters, with your great power and ability, my lord, and with a little help from father Risei. Then, once the moment presents itself, we will swoop in, and take the white princess for ourselves. Besides, I have been watching through a few familiars, and it would seem that our lovely Homunculus enjoys taking little forays into the city, accompanied only by her Servant."

"What about the Magus killer, teacher? Will he not be a concern?" Kirei asked.

Tokiomi chuckled. "Oh do not worry about him, my pupil. I have a plan for him as well, and, you will have a large part in it."

Kirei looked oddly relieved at that statement, but it seemed unimportant.

Tokiomi then stood up, and strode towards his message device. 'But, first, I think it would be prudent to call upon a few old friends for assistance, and, as luck would have it, they just so happen to be here in the city."

"And who would these old friends of yours be, Tokiomi?" Gilgamesh, the King of Heroes, asked.

"Why, one of them is the Master of the Saber class servant of this War, of course…."

That got their attention. Despite himself, it made Tokiomi feel a bit proud.

* * *

Byakuya Matou had a simple routine, and one that he had rigidly adhered to for the past ten years without fail, ever since he had been made the 'head' of the Matou family; wake up, drink some liquor, occasionally eat, take a dump, drink some more liquor, wallow in pity and self-loathing, take a long and thick piss, drink even more heavy liquor, and then, eventually, collapse into the unconscious sleep of the passed out and hung over.

Though, for the most part, he was content to remain within the Matou manor, today, he decided to venture out, and replenish his stores.

What was the worst that could happen? It was not like he was ever important enough to have anything happen to him, even during a Holy Grail War…

* * *

Kiritsugu pressed his gun to the back of the man's head, while maintaining his grip on the Matou magus's arm. The man held been pathetically easy to track down, and, by the smell of it, the man had already pissed himself, more than once.

This was just utterly pathetic, even for a magus.

"Where is your brother? Where is Kariya Matou?"

"I don't know! I don't know what that fucking asshole even is! About a year ago, the stupid bastard decided to just waltz back into the family, demanding to be made a magus and participate in the War, all for the sake of some stupid little bitch! The old Worm gave him some crap about it, but, truthfully, the idiot can have it all! My family is nothing but pure evil! Then, a few months ago, before the War, Kariya just… vanished! Guess the asshole just backed out at the last minute.

"The old worm looked all over, be he couldn't find him. So much for recuing the little bitch!"

That was impossible. It was obviously a tactic. The man had to still be in the city somewhere. Perhaps the best way to flush him out would be to sever him from his resources.

Kiritsugu pushed the gun further into the base of the man's skull. "Anything else that you feel you should add?"

The man tried to shake his head as best he could. "No! That's it! That's all I know, I swear! Please, I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die, HAVE MERCY!"

Very pathetic indeed.

Kiritsugu then slowly clicked off the safety. "Alright, but I have another question. How do I enter your family's estate?"

When the man kept sobbing instead of answering, Kiritsugu decided that perhaps it would be best if he tried a more direct tactic. He was beginning to get a bit bored.

So, he lifted the gun from the back of the Matou magus' head and aimed it at the man's free hand.

_Bang!_

Byakuya Matou's sobs were soon replaced by screams, as his hand became a pulped mess.

"You can scream as much as you want, Matou. The bounded field I set up ensures that no one will hear you, or even see us. Now, tell me, how do I enter the estate?"

"There's… a safe word… that grants a person access…"

"What is it?"

Instead of answering, the man was actually silent for a moment, save for his sobs. Then, she slowly spoke. "If you do this… promise me that you will kill the old worm."

Kiritsugu felt his eyebrow rise at that. "Why would you ask that of me? You are not in a position to make any demands at the moment."

The Matou craned his neck to look up at him. "He's a monster. That is what you do, right? Kill monsters? Believe me, you have never encountered a monster like him before."

"… Very well. Tell me the every word, and, if possible, I will destroy Zouken Matou."

So, the drunkard told him. But it was still not enough. Still, Kiritsugu healed the man's wound, and then made him swear that he would not warn Zouken of what was to come, before sending him on his way.

Personally, Kiritsugu doubted that Byakuya would even attempt to keep his word, but a part of him just wanted the man to whimper for a bit longer.

Time to get ready…

* * *

_An Fiach Fiáin_

"So, Waver, tell me about yourself," Winston inquired.

They were all seated outdoors at a large oak table in the back of the restaurant, near the forest, and with a clear view of the evening sky. There was even enough space for Rider, remarkably.

The first course was a simple salad, with bib lettuce, watercress, radishes, yellow carrots, eggs, beets, and a cream dressing. Father Rex had to feed Kaie, who, oddly enough, did not complain.

"Um, well… I'm from Britain, and I am here on… vacation."

"By yourself?"

"Um, no. I'm staying with my grandparents."

For some reason, Winston's eyes looked towards Rider (who was cramming the contents of a massive bowl of salad into his mouth with gusto) at the mention of grandparents, though it felt like only Waver had seen it. His mismatched eyes then zeroed back onto Waver. "That's nice. It is always a pleasant thing, when grandchildren take time out of their busy lives to visit their elders. Truly heartwarming indeed."

Father Rex chuckled. "I could not agree more."

The salad was soon done, and replaced with platter after platter of Salmon and Queenies, Bangers and Mash, Kidney pie, Cornish pasties in the shape of ravens, lamb, venison, and so much more.

It was more food than Waver had ever seen in his lifetime, and it all looked absolutely delicious.

As they began to dig in, Winston at first talked with Merem, Kaie, and Father Rex, while Waver and Rider ate in relative silence.

"So, what is it that you want from life, Mr. Velvet?"

Huh? "Wh-what's that supposed to mean?"

"You are young man, about to reach the prime of your life. The world is your oyster, and, as such, what is it that you want from it? What is that you want to achieve, to attain? What drives you to wake up face each new day?"

Waver thought about it for a moment. As he did, he recalled all the times that he had been laughed at by the other magi of the Clock Tower, all the times that he had been put down and trod upon by people with blue blood and no brains. He was better, and smarter than them, but no one could see it. He wanted prove them all wrong, to make the laughter stop. "I… I want to prove to everyone who has ever laughed at me, and walked over me as if I was nothing but garbage that I can be better than them, and that I will be better then them. I want the respect and prestige that I deserve, and for all those who mocked me to acknowledge it, and bow before my greatness! I want to know everything, and just be better!"

Mr. Wednesday nodded at Waver's proclamation, seemingly in agreement. "Seeking to elevate one's self in the pursuit of knowledge and self-betterment from your station in life is a noble and admirable goal. I myself once pursued that same sort of goal with all the vigor I could muster, and, as you could see, it paid off in dividends, though I nearly killed my self in doing so. Indeed, it is a far upgrade from my previous lot in life, when I felt forgotten by the world."

"It… is very impressive, sir," Waver admitted, as he bit into a Cornish pasty.

"Of course, I only achieved all of this because I had an actual goal in mind. Running off half-cocked and with not a shred of foresight can only lead to disaster, as I am sure you are well aware, Mr. Velvet. Sadly, to me, that is exactly how you seem to be ambling through life at the moment, with no real ambition, and just the faint idea of it.

"You have an idea of what you want, but no real goal or idea on how to begin to achieve any of it. Such things take hard work, and sacrifice, sometimes more than most might be willing to pay."

His eyes seemed to burrow through Waver's skull. "As such, what would you be prepared to sacrifice, Mr. Velvet, to attain that which you think you so desire? Would you be willing to pay any cost, no matter what it may entail?"

Ordinarily, Waver would have been rather alarmed by this conversation, but, with a belly full of food, and anger in his veins, Waver did not even hesitate. How dare this man disparage what he wanted! He did not know him. None of them did! "I would sacrifice anything, without hesitation."

Mr. Wednesday looked at him for a long moment. The whole table fell silent. Waver even felt a line of sweat trickle down the back of his neck.

Then… Winston began laugh. It was a long and hard laugh, the sort that came from deep within the belly, and he then reached out his worn hand towards Waver once again. "Such fire in your guts! Most Impressive! Very well! We have a compact, Waver Velvet! Show me that you mean what you say!"

For some reason, Waver shook his hand. The moment their palms touched, Waver felt a small shock of electricity. Despite himself, he yelped.

The man chuckled. "Sorry. Annoying stuff, that static electricity."

He clapped his hands again. "Now then, there is still time for desert. Tonight's specials are Irish Chocolate cake with Baileys Buttercream frosting, and some very sweet Kouign Amann. I had the ingredients flown in special from the United Kingdom. You just cannot trust Japanese ingredients to make good Celtic cakes, after all…"

* * *

_Later_

As the boy and his massive Servant left, their bellies now full with food fit for gods, the king of Rats, Merem Solomon, and Kaie Karyou turned to Winston. "Well?" Merem asked, an eager smile on his face.

Mr. Wednesday stroked his chin as he observed the retreating form of Waver Velvet, and smiled. "He'll do."

"And the boy's Servant?"

"Magni knows his role. He will know what to do when the time comes."

* * *

_Later that night_

Zouken mused upon the Holy Grail War, as he looked out upon the city. I never ceased to amaze him how much the city had changed, in the past five hundred years, despite how little he remembered of it.

The war was off to an interesting start, and the Servants indeed seemed mighty.

Very entertaining to watch, to say the least, and all the while, his idiot son remained missing, and little Sakura continued her _studies_.

_Heh, heh, heh. _

"Enjoying the view?" came a voice that he had not heard in over five hundred years.

Zouken could not keep the surprise out of his face. "You?"

The red-haired man smiled as he emerged from the shadows. "Indeed, old friend. It's me."

He looked over Zouken with humor in his eyes. "_Hmmm_, I see that you have only become more degenerate over the centuries. It's a good look for you, like the worm that you have always been. What _she _ever saw in you, I'll never know."

To his credit, Zouken did not rise to the bait. "How are you even here, murderer? We all saw you die."

"You should know by now, Zouken, that, like all great magicians, I never reveal my secrets. Just trust me when I say that, if I told you, you would not believe me."

"This War is starting to get interesting, is it not?"

"You might want to get home, _Zolgen_. It would seem that you have an uninvited guest on your premises."

* * *

As the night crowd began to filter into the restaurant, Winston stepped outside, and took a moment to look upon _An Fiach Fiáin_.

The building was a truly work of art, the culmination of over two years of labor, power, belief, and bribery, a bit of strong-arming, need, and hunger. It made great food, and helped to remind him of home, in a way. In ten years, it would most likely become a great, if somewhat pricy, treasure of Fuyuki city.

What a shame, then, that it had already served its purpose.

The seed had been planted into the vessel, and all that was left was for the War to run its course, and then…

Then things could truly begin.

His eyes took in every nook and cranny of the building. "You will be remembered, _An Fiach Fiáin_, and, like that which you are named after, you will fade into the legend of this land, into song, and into memory. Perhaps you will even be reborn, as something even better and greater than before."

He tipped his hat to the building. "Your sacrifice, and the sacrifice of those within you, will never once be forgotten. Now go, and claim your final reward."

A moment later, a loud and mighty explosion reduced the building to rubble, and Winston Wednesday calmly walked away into the Fuyuki Night.

* * *

From within their hiding place, Caster and Ryuunosuke cackled in delight at the projected image. Behind them, cages were filled with children silently weeping. Flauros simply chuckled.

His pupil and his pupil's Servant were indeed quite compatible. He then looked behind him.

Walking about the cages, and ignoring the desperate pleas of their prisoners, was Flauros' servant, mumbling quietly whilst twitching ever so often as he leafed and thumbed through the large book he held in his hands.

"How goes it, my friend?" Flauros asked.

"The book gains power, and they call to me beyond. For now, they are sated, and are eager to arrive."

"Will those sacrifices work, Foreigner, along with the children?" Flauros asked his servant.

The morose-looking man nodded, as the book in his hands began to glow. "They shall. The ritual shall commence in one day's time. Just a few more sacrifices, and then… they can finally come through."

Flauros nodded. "Indeed, and then the world shall be reborn."

* * *

The manor seemed disgustingly opulent and solitary, situated as it was on the side of the massive hill. Kiritsugu hated it at first sight.

But, still, time to get to work.

The word that Byakuya gave him was still fresh in his mind.

_"Justeaze," _he whispered to the air.

He could feel the bounded fields begin to recede. So, all he had to do was just slip in through the front door.

The interior was barely lit. Indeed, it almost felt as if no one had lived inside the mansion for decade.

First, the library, and then, set the explosives, and then set up the corroding bounded field…

"Who are you?" came the tiny voice.

Slowly, Kiritsugu turned, to behold a young girl standing behind him, no older than five years of age. Her eyes were large, and very sad, with a sorrow beyond that which a child should ever have to bear.

Wait, why was Sakura Tohsaka here? Why were her hair and eyes now different colors?

He had to approach this carefully. "Who do you think I am?"

She just kept looking at him. "I don't know. For a moment, I thought you were uncle Kariya. He promised that he would take me away from this place, to save me. But, he never came back."

Save? "So, you don't know where your 'uncle' is either?"

"No. Grandfather laughs about a lot, during my training, but that's about it."

"I see."

He looked at the young girl for a long moment, and she looked back without flinching. "…If I could save you, where your uncle failed, what would you do, little one?"

The girl shrugged her tiny shoulders. "It's doesn't matter. Once grandfather finds you here, you won't be able to escape. No one ever escapes him."

With that, she then turned, and started to leave.

Almost without thinking, Kiritsugu grabbed at her, and sent a small surge of prana through her system, gently and harmlessly shocking her into unconsciousness. Then he deposited her in the woods by the road, wrapped securely in a blanket.

Truly, magi were an evil lot.

All he could do was kill the beast, take it's hoard for himself, and then take the girl to the authorities. Then, once he had reentered the house, his right hand twitched, and he found himself walking towards the basement.

What he found actually sent chills down his spine.

It was a large pit, and though it looked empty, he could hear the sound of thousands upon thousands of tiny skittering legs as he slowly descended the staircase, his calico at the ready in his left hand, and a small flame coming to life in his right hand. He could feel the miasma of suffocating malice and _wrong _in the air.

His right hand and legs minutely twitched.

As he stepped upon the bottom floor, a loud drumming sound then filled the air.

The Magus Killer turned and looked up, weapons and spells at the ready, and beheld a large mass of bugs oozing through one of the vents in the wall, as the skittering swarm coalesced into the form of a short, old man with a disdainful expression on his face, and leaning on a wooden cane. Behind the creature, large swarms skittered and buzzed into existence, including what seemed to be massive, truck sized insects now skittering about the walls.

The old man then bared his teeth in something that could barely be called a grin, due to the malice that filled every inch of its existence "You were beyond foolish to come here tonight, Magus Killer. But, at least your magic circuits will feed my familiars well. You might even make for an excellent host."

The swarm then burst down towards Kiritsugu.

* * *

**A/N: Things are starting to diverge from canon. Any guesses to the Red-Haired man's identity?**

**What plans for Waver Velvet does Mr. Wednesday have? What will they entail?**

**Also, how will Kiritsugu fare against Zouken Matou!? In case you're wondering why Kiritsugu would attack the home like this, then a few reasons. A) Because he thinks it will flush out Kariya Matou. And B) because, due to his 'condition,' Kiritsugu's mind does not always think in a totally rational way. But, in the net chapter, you will discover why he wears gloves all the time. **

**Anyway, read, review, and enjoy. **

* * *

Archer: Gilgamesh

Master: Tokiomi Tohsaka.

**Stats**

STR: B

END: B

AGI: B

MAN: A

LCK: A

NP: EX

**Class Skills**

Independent Action: A+

Magic Resistance: C

Divinity: B

**Personal Skills**

Charisma: A+

Golden Rule: A

Collector: EX

Treasury of Babylon: EX

**Noble Phantasms**

Enuma Elish: EX

Gate of Babylon: E-A++

Bab-ilu: -

Enki: EX

Sha Naqba Imuru: EX


	5. Chapter 5

Fate Ragnarök Chapter 5: _I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven. _

The massive wave of skittering bugs and worms and things seemed to reach the very roof of the subterranean pit as it then started to crash down toward Emiya.

Upon his back and under his coat and shirt, the mage crest of his father began to glow, lighting up fro the base of his neck to the base of his spine.

Time slowed to a crawl, and, as it did, a hidden mechanism in his left prosthetic injected a needle in the stump of his left arm, and ejected its contents into his bloodstream.

As the adrenaline and elixir began to flood his veins, Kiritsugu raised his right hand as he then began to run towards the mass of familiars, his feet seemingly leaving the ground when time began to speed up once more.

The flame in his right hand expanded, and proceeded to burst forward, enveloping the front ranks of the swarming creatures, filling the air with screeches and greasy ash.

As the flame dissipated, the net wave zoomed towards him as he kept running towards the stairs. Thinking fast, he summoned more flame from his right hand, and it enveloped his form and clothes gently, like a suit of living armor. The fire hovered close enough to not singe his flesh, though the heat did burn a bit.

Most of the insects were vaporized upon impact, but, still, some bugs, like the kamikaze fighters of old, managed to get past the flames, leaving scratches and scars and stings upon his face and arms. He gritted his teeth and ignored the pain and stinging as he kept dashing up the stairs, letting forth bursts of fire and bullets from his hand and calico.

With a grunt, he threw himself into, and then through, the heavy wooden door at the top of the stair case, and it ruptured and exploded into a shower of splinters and metal screws. That hurt. As he fell to the floor, he twisted, and then he briefly raised up the calico again, and rattled off another quick and blind spray of bullets while rolling to his feet, letting the flames about his person dissipate into the stale air of the house's interior.

_Time Alter: Triple Accel!_

Time slowed down, and as he ran, he dropped a few grenades to the ground.

As he dashed, and time slowed down again, the house was racked with an explosion.

As he slid around, it was to witness more bladed insect-creatures diving towards him from the ceiling. They were too close for him to aim the calico.

Was this entire house a hive?

At a speed a touch beyond that which a human could safely push their body, Kiritsugu's right hand jerked up, drawing a knife from his belt as he did so and slashed at the razor-sharp beetle-creatures when they were less then a few centimeters from his face. A moment later, they all fell to the ground in disgusting pieces.

As he hid, he could hear the steady _thump, thump, thump_, of a wooden cane upon the floor.

He had to keep on the move, but he knew that could not keep running forever. Nor could he afford to leave the house at the moment. Not until the thing known as Zouken was dead. As he ran and dived, Zouken Matou's voice echoed out. "It was rather brazen of you to enter my domain, Kiritsugu Emiya…"

Hmm… maybe it was time for a new ploy.

* * *

The man had been foolish to come here. But, this was the most entertainment that Zouken had had in a long while, Sakura and Kariya's torment notwithstanding.

He would make this impertinent upstart suffer, and scream, before his body was broken down for food.

"It was rather brazen of you to enter my domain, Kiritsugu Emiya. Brazen, and just so very foolish of you. What would make you take such a foolhardy course of action, I wonder? Was it for my dear little _granddaughter?_"

"Where is Kariya Matou?" The man's voice echoed through the house.

At the mention of that fool's name, Zouken could not help but laugh.

"I know what happened in Shigura City, Kiritsugu Emiya…. How many people lived on that lovely little Island? Ten thousand? Twenty? How red are your hands from that foul deed? How many children's souls haunt your every waking moment? Do you imagine their screams? Do you gain pleasure, from their deaths?"

A shower of bullets then momentarily blew his head apart, though he took no notice of it, as his head reformed.

He sent a small battalion of worms up through the walls towards where the bullets had been shot.

He heard a grunt of pain, an explosion of drywall, wood, and plaster, and, a moment later, the magus killer was sent careening and smashing over the stairs to the bottom floor, and then once again, to impact against the dead end of on of the manor's hallways, courtesy of a solidified mass of crest worms working as a rough fist. As he hit the wall, the Magus Killer spat out a small mouthful of blood, and groaned in pain.

Zouken chuckled at the sight, as he slowly made his way towards the enemy mage and Master. He made sure to emphasize each _thump _of his wooden cane.

"So many people, and yet you still struggled on, Magus Killer. Stupid, foolish, and yet, in a strange way, admirable."

"You have fought well, and your magecraft is beyond what had been reported. Some sort of time alteration, I must assume. Very interesting. You will make a most excellent host. Be thankful that you will be the one to extend my life, even as your soul screams its way down into the bottom of my gullet."

He summoned up more crest worms and insects, enough to clog the entire hallway, the entire house. There would be no escape for this intruder.

"Still, it is a bit of a pity, that your infamous legend is to end here, Kiritsugu Emiya. But, alas, the simple truth was that you just how chance. But, as a courtesy to your effort, I shall grant you the rights of the dying. Any final words, Magus Killer, before I dispose you like so much trash?"

To Zouken's slight surprise, Kiritsugu Emiya just looked at him, sighed, let loose a short and humorless chuckle, and then, using his teeth, tore off the glove on his right hand, revealing smooth, onyx-black flesh. As he then held it, palm up, toward the mass of crest worms, and to Zouken, he spoke, and his words thrummed with a power that Zouken had never before experienced, and it sent chills down the old magus' non-existent spine.

**"Life is naught but endless Tragedy."**

The moment that those words left the man's lips, another massive conflagration promptly burst forward from the outstretched hand and palm of the Magus Killer, as his sleeve then exploded in a burst of fabric, and his back briefly lit up in a strange array of glowing lights and patterns.

The swarm was then… swatted and burnt back in a burst of flame, as a second figure was soon revealed to be the source of the flames.

The beast was heavily muscled, standing at almost eight feet in height, and it was covered in pitch-black scales that seemed to absorb all light about it. Its eyes were a pure and deep red, as was the fire and smoke that was emanating from within its fanged and saurian mouth. Its claws and horns were a solid and shining gray.

…. Unexpected, but irrelevant. It would fall before him, just like it's master! None could stand before Zouken Matou!

With a thought, Zouken sent the wave of bugs surging forward towards the Magus Killer and his strange pet.

With a mighty and earth shaking roar, the saurian beast charged the endless mass of crest worms and insects, which Zouken quickly summoned up between it and himself. It then began to swipe and tear.

It would not matter. He could always-

_ARGH!_

What!?

With each rend of the monster's claws as it tore through the waves of his crest worms, Zouken felt… _agony _course through his non-existent veins. Indeed, he had already fallen to the ground in pure agony.

A moment later, the beast burst through, and, with another swipe of its claws, sent the old magus hurtling backwards, and then crash against the floor of the foyer.

It hurt to move, or to even think, as the saurian beast continued to burn and rend apart the rest of his crest worms.

What was happening!?

Then, he heard slow and measured footsteps. Through the pain, he looked up and saw Kiritsugu Emiya approaching him, sans his right arm, with only a smooth shoulder stump in its place. In his left hand, he held what looked to be a Thompson contender pistol, a make that Zouken had not seen in almost forty decades.

The barrel was aimed right between Zouken's eyes.

"What… what are you?" Zouken asked the impassive, one-armed man, his form barely keeping itself together. "You… you are not fully human, are you? What… are you… to… have such monsters dwelling in your flesh!?"

Kiritsugu Emiya looked upon the ancient magus for a long stretch of silence. He then raised his strange gun. "I am a monster, like you, Zouken Matou, and, like you, I am already dead."

He then squeezed the trigger, a moment that seemed to stretch on fora an eternity, until...

**_Bang!_**

A moment later, the bullet drove itself straight through Zouken's forehead, and blowing off a massive portion of his skull and face. No, he could survive a mere bul-

_ARRRRRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! ARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!_

AGONY!

AGONY! AGONYAONGYOANOGYPAINAGONYPAINAGONYPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPIANPIANAPIANSPA)FPNPISFNSPASIFAJSF…..

As his very being, mind, and ragged remains of his soul began to splinter apart and dissipate amidst his screams, Zouken Matou… Zolgen Makiri found himself resting before the ethereal image of a serene and beautiful woman.

_All I ever wanted… I remember now. This... this was not what I wanted..._

_Justeaze…._

The woman smiled at him sadly, as if she could hear what he had not spoken. "Oh Zolgen, you silly old thing," she said. "You were always just too stubborn to let things go, weren't you?"

She then reached out a dainty hand. "Come and rest. Your time is done, my old friend. It was a good effort, though."

As he tried to reach out, and grasp that radiant hand, everything then all began to fade away.

It was just... so peaceful...

* * *

While the ancient worm magus finished dying, Tragedy began to eat at his dissipating remains, and the remains of all the bugs that were now lying inert on the ground, Kiritsugu then walked three steps to his left, and slumped against the wall.

That had been a fight. It had been a bit of a risk, but, luckily for him, Zouken Matou had been the sort of magus, the sort of beast, that liked to toy with his prey, and break them through tiresome monologues and threats.

Pathetic, and just so very predictable.

Fuck… he was just so fucking tired.

Still, once he was done here, Kariya Matou would have nowhere to turn back to to safely hide himself.

Though, a small part of him, a part that he had tired to keep dead and buried took some pleasure at the destruction of the Matou patriarch.

He looked up, and saw his right arm's true form, standing patiently before him, grunting and growling as heat emanated from its form, and dried liquid that could barely be called blood stained its maw and claws.

Despite its nature, the limb known as Tragedy had its uses in a few tight spots.

He sighed, holstered the Thompson Contender on his belt, and then deftly removed a pack of cigarettes, and dragged one out with his teeth.

His right arm then growled, almost impatiently. With a tired sigh, Kiritsugu presented the smooth stump of his right shoulder.

With a final, rumbling growl, the hulking beast proceeded to burst apart into a large cloud of sticky, tar-like ash, which then coalesced and reattached itself to the stump, and it was now once again masquerading as the right arm and hand of Kiritsugu Emiya, the Magus Killer.

He reached into his coat pocket, withdrew his right glove, and slipped it back on. As he did, Tragedy's mental rumbles and growls quieted into nonexistence.

Once he was done pillaging the library and the workshop of the manor, he burst open all the piping, filling the air with the screams of escaping gas. He then turned all the ovens on, and doused the rest of the house with more oil, as well as the abundance of old and new alcohol that he had found in the cellars.

A moment later, he stood outside, the little girl called Sakura cradled delicately in his arms.

With a final drag of his cigarette, Kiritsugu Emiya then flicked the burning cancer stick into the house. He whispered a single word, and the flames began to spring to life.

Ass he turned and sped away, ignoring the ache in his limbs, the Matou House burned to the ground in a grand and disgusting immolation of degradation and dead worms...

* * *

With the last sentence written for the night, Risei closed his leather bound journal with an exhalation of old exhaustion.

Sometimes, it was just hard getting elderly, even for one such as him.

But, it was all just part of the Lord's divine plan, after all.

The War was progressing in an odd manner, but he felt that all he could do was trust in Tokiomi's plans...

Then, he heard a ringing sound echoing from a chamber deeper in the church, at a pitch only he could hear.

Curious.

* * *

After the old priest left, nonexistence began to warp and stretch in and around itself.

A moment later, the red-haired man settled into the chair at the priest's writing desk. It was a very comfortable chair. Simple, but well-made, and no doubt handcrafted by the old priest himself.

How very quaint.

He then looked upon the journal on the desk, and began to thumb through it.

Interesting. Very, _very _interesting.

Oh, this was very _delicious_.

By the time that the old priest returned to his room, a somber expression on his face, the room was undisturbed, as if nothing and nobody had ever been there.

* * *

It had been another fun day.

Though, when they entered the dining room, they found a strange sight before them; a little girl with purple hair and eyes, calmly eating at a large bowl of soup.

Iri and Lancer looked at the little girl.

The little girl looked at the homunculus and the Legendary Hero.

The girl then went back to her meal, sipping and slurping at her soup.

Iri was confused, but elated.

Another gift from Kiri. She was just so adorable!

A moment later, the little girl was enveloped in a warm and full hug.

* * *

Kiritsugu staggered into his room at the Continental.

He had already stopped by the Einzbern mansion to hand off the little girl. The only ones that had been there were the homunculi maids. Iri and Lancer had still been out at the time. In all honesty, it was rather foolish of her, those excursions, but, he would not begrudge his wife her liberties.

At least, not yet…

The homunculi took Sakura… could the child still be called Matou, now? But, that did not matter, though the question that still remained was what to do with her.

Right now, he really just needed a shower.

For a good while, he just let the water run down off his body, and inhaled the warm air of the shower.

He then turned to the mirror while tying a towel about his waist, as the illusion that he always kept over his flesh started to dissipate.

For the first time in almost ten years, Kiritsugu looked upon his true self in the mirror, as the illusion slowly dropped away. He hated what he saw. He had hated

Iri had never seen him like this. When Illya had been conceived, they had not been intimate. The Einzberns had simply extracted his sperm, upon his request.

From the shoulder down, his right arm and hand were the color of midnight and charcoal, as were his legs. From the elbow down on his left arm…. Shining, rune-encrusted, cold and unfeeling steel, wrought in the facsimile of his missing left arm and hand. He could feel through his three black limbs, and yet, he could not. They were his, and yet not his. He hated them, despite their great and invaluable uses.

He could still feel his original limbs though, even after nine years, along with the tattoos on his back, as well as his father's crest.

It hurt. They all still hurt so much, even with the elixir coursing through his lungs and veins.

False flesh that was not his, or unfeeling steel…. Neither would ever be preferable.

His reflection then smirked back at him through the mirror though he was not smiling. Upon the reflection's face was the type of grin that he had never once grinned in all his life, even as a child, living under the sunsets of Alimango Island.

Then, like always, the reflection's lips began to move, with that damn smile still on his face, and the voices, like clockwork, began to murmur, always starting just out of an audible range…

His left fist swiftly shattered the hotel mirror into a thousand little pieces, just like the thousands of times previously. he would be sure to pay out of pocket for the micro later, though, no doubt Winston was already aware.

Before the voices could reach an audible pitch, he reached down, and brought up an inhalation mask that he had stashed here in the room to his face, and swiftly breathed in a full dose of the elixir, the elixir created by his father.

It had been foolish of him to utilize his father's magecraft. It burned through the elixir too quickly, ever since Shigura City.

_Kill the few, save the-_

The elixir flooded his veins, and the voices quieted themselves once more. Everything was now clear and concrete in his mind, though the memories still remained.

Without another word, he dressed, and then collapsed upon the suite's bed.

He was just so goddamn tired...

* * *

Tokiomi just sat there for a long moment, staring at the projection of the burnt-out remains of the Matou mansion. An entire spectrum of emotions flooded through his mind.

"Who was responsible for this?" he said to father Risei, who was also staring at the image.

"From what can be deduced, it would seem to be the work of the Magus Killer, the master of Lancer.

"And Sakura?"

The elderly priest sighed. "There was no sign of her, I am afraid. As such, we can only assume the worst..."

The rest of what he said was drowned out by the roaring emptiness, grief, and rage that warred within Tokiomi's mind.

It seemed he had lost a second child.

The curse still held, even after all this time.

With a sigh, he stood up from the pew. "Thank you for showing me this, Risei. I shall remain in touch."

As he walked home, later, he still felt shocked.

What was he even going to tell Aoi and Rin?

At the very least, he would make sure that a proper grave was erected for Sakura, despite her status as a Matou.

Right now though, he needed to send out a message.

As the message machine whirled to life, he began to dictate. "It is time for us to meet, my old friends. Meet me at her grave tomorrow evening..."

* * *

_The Next day_

The back of Byakuya's head was doing its upmost best to sink itself into the pillow of the hospital bed. At the moment, his inly companion was the _beep _of the heart monitor currently attached to his chest.

Ordinarlily, by this time in the evening, he would already be well and truly drunk and/or hung-over. While that was not the case, at least the painkillers were giving him a nice buzz.

Suddenly, he felt a massive jolt of pain shoot itself up his spine, and into the center of his brain. He gasped, and convulsed, before proceeding to throw up over the side of his bed.

With a wet and pain-wracked groan, Byakuya Matou looked about him, as if he had been awakening from a long and painful slumber. He then reached up with his right hand to rub at his head.

The moment his eyes clamped upon the stump that was once his right hand, he began to scream, in not only renewed pain, but also fear, anger, and complete confusion.

It took three nurses and two orderlies to hold him down. It then took three minutes for the sedative to finally kick in.

* * *

_Unknown_

It was almost time…

The sacrifices had been gathered, the deaths had been carried out, and now, all that was left was for the ritual to commence.

Ryuunosuke had been an apt pupil. He learned quickly, and was ever eager to learn more. Plus, he and his caster Servant seemed to get along swimmingly. He was also becoming quite adept at procuring the required materials for the sacrifices.

Soon, it could all begin-

"Flauros! My old, tentacle-waving, multi-ocular, top-hat wearing friend! How have you been? I see that you have been busy!" the red-haired man exclaimed, as he threw his arms about Flaurous' shoulders.

He was not overly amused, and so merely arched an eyebrow. "How did you get in here, _old friend_?"

"You know me. You know that there is no place that can keep me out. I am everywhere, and anywhere. after all," he made a dramatic gesture, "that is just part of my ever-lasting charm."

Flauros grunted. "Of course. Did the old man send you?"

"Not exactly, though we did speak a bit. The vessel has been located, and he is ready to commence with the rest of the plan."

The red haired man then seemed to notice the cages, filled with crying children. His head cocked, he stalked towards the nearest cage. Their cries intensified as he approached. "Why are you crying, little one? Are you afraid? Are you angry, or are you so overwhelmed and confused by what is happening around you?"

The weeping thing hesitantly nodded. The red-haired man reached through the bars, and started to caress the child's head.

For a moment, its weeping quieted. Then, the red-haired man's expression turned manic. He gripped the child's head tightly, and began to slam it against the bars.

_Thwack!_

_Thwack!_

_Thwack!_

As the small corpse slid down the bars, the red-haired man slicked the blood off of his hand. He then looked about at Flauros, Foreigner, Caster, and Ryuunosuke. He shrugged. "What can I say? I've never been fond of children."

He then gave a bright smile. "So... shall we get started now?"

As Ryuunosuke and Caster began to laugh out loud at what had just occurred, and the cries and screams of the other children filled the air as Assassin set to work, Flauros simply shook his head, and then gestured to his servant.

It was almost time.

Soon, the call would be sent out.

Soon, the One's plans could begin to come to fruition.

Soon, Father's dream would become realized upon humanity, and the World.

Foreigner nodded at the signal, and then lifted up his hands. When he did so, the tome in his hands, the Necronomican, floated into the air, and started to glow, while the morose man started to chant.

Meanwhile, Caster and Ryuunosuke left, no doubt to have some more fun...

* * *

Tokiomi approached the grave, a large basket cradled gingerly in his arms. It had gotten dusty again. That would not do at all. It seemed that he would have to have a stern word with the groundskeeper.

He had not visited the grave in almost four years.

The tombstone was plain, but elegant. Upon it was a simple, and dignified, inscription...

_Dreamer_

_1943-1972_

_Beloved Daughter, Friend, and Love_

_Ever Darker is the World Without her Bright Light_

Underneath it was a smaller, though no less hurtful, inscription.

_Asuna_

_1972-1972_

_Beloved Daughter_

With a tired sigh, he brushed the dust off of the tombstone. "Hello my dear. Yes, I am aware that it has been much too long since my last visit. For that, I can do naught but apologize most profusely. My wife just does not look too highly on me visiting you."

Disregarding the dirt upon the ground, he sat down, and pulled out from the basket two glasses, and one of the bottles that Gilgamesh had not yet imbibed. He then poured two glasses. "Now, I know that you were never really one for 'fancy and sparkly things' as you would say, but, still I felt that it was best that I provide the best for this little chat of ours."

He took a sip. Still as rich as ever, and yet, it tasted hollow and empty. "My daughter is dead, Dreamer. It was Sakura. You remember her? I do believe that I told you about my children with Aoi during my last visit."

He sighed, and took another sip. "It seems that that _blood sucker's _curse still plagues me, even after all this time. A second child of mine now lies dead."

He raised a miserable toast. "To parents outliving their children, my dear."

The sound of fast footsteps made him raise his head, just before a punch made him fall to his back upon the ground, his wine spilling upon the ground.

That hurt.

He spat out a bit of blood, looked up, to see a man that he had not expected to meet again. Idly, he noted how the man's right hand ended in a stump, and that, though he was wearing pants and shit, was also wearing an open hospital gown.

Tokiomi gingerly got to his feet. "So, I take it that you remember, Byakuya?"

"How long?" the former drunk asked, ignoring the question.

"Pardon?"

"How long was I 'asleep', you bastard? How long was I locked away within my own mind?"

Tokiomi sighed, as he slowly got to his feet. "What is the last thing that you remember, Byakuya?"

The one-handed man exhaled angrily. "You, and the old worm paying me a visit in the Asylum, after Aylesbury. Then... I just woke up in a hospital bed, hung over, and missing my FUCKING HAND! How long did I sleep while that... _other _version of me tried his best to drink itself into an early grave? What did you and that fucker Zouken do to me!?"

Tokiomi knew that he had to approach this delicately. "Byakuya, when Zouken and I found you in the asylum... that was in 1973, one year after Aylesbury."

"What year is it now!?"

"...1996."

The look of anger on the man's face was briefly exchanged with that of shock. "19...1996? You locked me away for twenty-six years!?"

Byakuya's body shook with rage. "Damn you, Tokiomi! Damn you, damn that old worm, and damn what you did to me! I was getting better!"

"No, old friend, you weren't. You were nothing but a shriveled, mad husk of your former self. The Dark Six, it got into your head. When your father and I found you, you were scribbling the symbols from _that _ritual on the walls in your own blood and excrement, over and over again, at least when you were not trying to hang yourself. A new version of you, with no memory of that night... it seemed the more merciful solution."

"Merciful!?"

Byakuya took another swing at him. This time, Tokiomi dodged it easily. The Matou heir then reached into one of his coat pockets and pulled out a scalpel, no doubt pilfered from the hospital. "You really think that what you did to me was a fucking mercy!?"

Not wanting to actually hurt his former friend, Tokiomi raised his hands in surrender, despite that fact that he could easily over power Byakuya. "Please, old friend. Not here, not in front of her."

For a long moment, Byakuya did nothing but point the scalpel at him, its edge glinting in the dying light of the evening. "I should kill you, you bastard. I should cut your fucking throat, and leave you to die, choking on you blood and failure and hypocrisy... but I won't. At least, not in front of _her _grave."

He stowed the knife back in his coat pocket. "Killing you would be a mercy, and that is something you do not deserve, not after what you did to all of us, Tokiomi. Me, Ava, Nigel, Twice, Cornelius... Dreamer... You don't deserve death. Life is already your punishment."

He then turned, and began to walk. "Where will you go?" Tokiomi asked.

"As far away from this city, this land, and _you_, as possible. Goodbye, Tokiomi. I hope that someday, you die screaming in agony."

Before he got any further, Tokiomi called out again. "Wait... do you know who attacked your house? Where is Sakura?"

Byakuya stopped dead in his tracks, but did not turn back toward the Tohsaka patriarch. "... It was a monster. As for Sakura... then she is most likely dead. Goodbye, Tokiomi. Goodbye, and ill luck in this bloodsport!"

As Byakuya stalked away, Gilgamesh slowly materialized in a flash of gold. Swiftly, Tokiomi rose again, and bowed deeply. "My king. Forgive me, but I thought that I was alone."

"Then that really makes you a fool, Tokiomi." As he spoke, the King of Uruk reached down, took up one of the glasses and the wine of bottle, and poured himself a drink. As he sipped, he then looked at the grave with minute curiosity.

"Who was she, Tokiomi?" The Golden Archer asked, as he gazed upon the tombstone.

"Her name, or at least that name that she had given herself, was Dreamer, and she was a woman that had been too wonderful and too good for this mortal existence.

"She was the first woman that I loved... and, had she, and the baby, lived, would have been the mother of my first child..."

"What happened to her?"

Tokiomi took a long sip of his wine. For some reason, he felt compelled to answer. "It was the year 1972, in a county town in England called Aylesbury..."

"And we were all so young, stupid, and in way over our heads," a third voice interrupted.

Tokiomi looked up, and smiled sadly at the newcomers. "Hello, my old friends. It has been a long while."

Twice responded with a sad smile of his own, while Nigel remained impassive, and Cornelius chuckled as the three approached. "Indeed it has, Tokiomi, indeed it has."

By Cornelius' side, Saber's darkly armored form materialized. He looked up Archer's now irritated face, and all felt the smirk behind his helmet. "You look well, Archer. Though, I have to wonder... if we fought for a second time, would you run away, again, like neutered dog with its tail between its legs?"

Archer crushed the glass in his hand, and snarled, a single gold portal blooming into existence behind him, with the point of a razor-edged sword edging its way out, ready to be launched. "Insolent whelp. I will tear out your tongue for your impudence!"

Tokiomi held up his hand. Archer's look briefly became one of shock and disbelief.

"So, now you called us here, Tokiomi," Nigel began, his deep voice echoing through the graveyard.

"What is the plan, old friend?"

Before Tokiomi could answer, an unholy shriek then filled the air, from the direction of the docks.

Then, the Overseer's voice echoed through his mind, as well as that of his friend's...

* * *

_Earlier_

They were wandering the city again, and were now approaching the park, though Waver had no memory of waking up t odd so, or even of returning to the MacKenize's.

The last thing he truly remembered was leaving that strange restaurant with Rider.

He must have just gotten really tired again.

Mostly though, all he could really think about was what the old man, Mr. Wednesday, had told him the previous night. Was he truly prepared to sacrifice whatever it took?

"What is wrong, Waver?" Rider asked, concern alight in his red eyes.

Suddenly a massive explosion engulfed the park, and it sent Waver flying!

As dust, blood, body fragments, and other debris dropped all around him, and a loud ringing noise echoed in his ears, all Waver could do was just stare in horror as it registered.

All those people!

As the aftermath of the explosion swelled into panic all about them, and the ringing noise abated, Waver suddenly heard loud and demented laughter echo all about the evening air.

Suddenly, Rider thrust his had forward in front of Waver, a moment before a bolt of sickly-looking energy could slam itself into his chest.

"Oh, gosh dang it! The big guy intercepted my attack. So not cool!"

It was an adult man, dressed in casual clothes, and with a shock of red-brown hair, like clay.

Next to him was a more nightmarish figure, dressed like a strange and depraved clown. In his right hand, he held a large pair of shears.

The man with clay-colored hair then laughed again. "Oh well. hey, kid, what do you think?" He gestured to the devastation all around them. "Pretty cool, right? So many dead people! Isn't that just so freaking awesome!?"

All Waver could do was look upon the pair with horror. Rider, on the other hand, snarled like a beast, as lighting began to wreath his form. You will pay for this slaughter, Caster! You and your demented master! Prepare to die screaming!"

The clown, no doubt Caster, simply laughed at hat proclamation, as did his master. "Well, you can try if you want! Come and catch us if you can, Rider! I want to feel your pain at your failure to save these poor, unfortunate souls!"

"Yeah, so uncool man. Catch us if you can!"

Then, they blurred, and vanished.

Before he knew what was happening, Rider grabbed Waver by the waist, and then lighting struck!

* * *

Winston sipped at the liquid in his glass. Fermented honey and water, mixed with various grains, spices, hops, and fruits (apples, bananas, and oranges, in this case). Mead, honey wine, the true drink of heroes, garbage alcohol, etc... So many names, and descriptions.

The drink was, all at once, extremely delicious, and yet also utterly repulsive. It was cheap to make, and yet this bottle had cost him at least five hundred American dollars. But, its contrarian nature was just part of its charm, after all.

He then pulled out his pocket watch, and observed the second hand slowly tick away towards the big twelve...

_5..._

_4..._

_3..._

_2..._

_1..._

At zero, the screams began.

Without rushing Winston downed the last of his drink. He then stood up, put on his hat, and calmly walked out.

* * *

Kirei idly thumbed through the bible in his hands.

Like always, the words upon its pages were empty, meaningless, and idiotic in their antiquity.

It was the man with red hair from the feast-hall and he was sitting at one of the pews. He was lounging, and it did not escape Kirei's notice that the man's arms were caked in blood from fingertip to elbow.

"Hello priest. Are you having a pleasant evening, or is it just... so-so?"

"What is it that you want? Have you come to mock me some more, man-who-is-addicted-to-apples?"

The man gave a shocked gasp. "Such uncouth and outwardly uncharacteristic rudeness, and from a priest, no less, even one such as you, Kirei Kotomine. All I can say is that I just felt a deep and aching cry in the deep dark recesses of my soul to find _God_, and so decided to seek out his house for guidance. Is that not a good answer for you, _priest_?

Before the priest could answer, he suddenly felt a strange feeling lance its way up his spine, as a large roar echoed through the air.

The Red-haired man smirked, as he then looked at his bloodstained wrist, as if he were wearing a watch. "Ah, excellent, right on time! Good luck, priest! Can't wait to see how you come out of this!"

Then, the man suddenly seemed to vanish in flash of non-existence.

Kirei rushed to look outside.

What in the name of the Lord was going on?

A moment later, he heard his father's voice echo through his head.

* * *

Kiritsugu stared for a long moment out side his window at the sight before him.

He sighed, took up his arms, and then raised up his right hand, his command seals gleaming.

_Lancer, to me._

As he sent out his command, the Overseer's voice echoed through his mind...

* * *

Lancer stood in front of the Mansion, sensing the evil and madness radiating from the city.

Inside, Iri protectively held the girl known as Sakura.

Then, her command seals glowed, and the Overseer's voice echoed through her mind...

* * *

They had been pursing the cackling Caster and his for over an hour, trying, and failing, to keep them from exploding more and more people, when Something suddenly happened, making Rider and Waver come to a halt, though the laughter of the two psychopaths was still ringing in their ears.

Over the bay, a massive portal seemed to tear itself into the area of existence in front of the sky.

Meanwhile, something was starting to rise from the ocean.

Before Waver could even react to the bizarre sight, he then watched as, in the distance, everyone in the city suddenly began to scream, and laugh, and shout, and... attack each other.

"Rider? What's going on? What the hell is that!?"

The giant looked about, unease clear on his bearded face.

"I don't know, Waver, but I am willing to believe that gateway has something to do with it. Plus, it smells wrong."

Waver looked at it, though he had to keep averting his gaze. "So, what do we do?"

Rider looked at him, and then at the scene. Anger and rage soon grew upon his bearded face. "Stay here, Master, and find somewhere safe! I shall handle this madness!"

He then raised his hand to the sky, and a massive blast of lightning smashed into his palm, followed by a great smash of thunder. A moment later, he let the lightning het the ground.

It was a chariot crafted exclusively for war.

Yoked and harnessed and tethered to it were three mighty beasts. One the left and white was a mighty goat, each the size of a car. The horns of the goats were the color of amber, and curved and pointed. The one on the right was the color of a powerful storm cloud, and the one on the left was the color of liquid night.

In the center was an equally large horse, with a coat whiter than snow, and a mane of liquid gold, with equally radiant eyes and hooves and forelocks.

With a loud flick of the reins, Rider was speeding off, towards the mad scene.

A moment later, Waver was left alone, save for the large numbers of collapsing and screaming people.

"Hello, Mr. Velvet. Fancy seeing you here."

He turned to look behind him. It was that old man, Winston Wednesday. He was dressed in an overcoat, and a hat with a wide brim. He had an ash walking stick in his hand. His cufflinks were in the shape of ravens.

"A very strange night, wouldn't you say, my boy?"

"Wh- what are you doing here? What the hell is going on?"

"What do you think is happening?" The man gestured all around them. "A group of madmen, two of whom are the spirits of long-dead heroes and/or monsters, have summoned unholy and eldritch things from beyond the ken of human and mortal comprehension into this reality, so as to wreck untold havoc and suffering upon the world. All-in-all, it's rather simple to comprehend."

He then looked at Waver. "Though, while I am sure that Rider and the other Servants will put up a gallant effort against these creatures, suffice to say, it will not make a load of difference unless their masters are dead. Cut off the head, and the body will cease to live."

He then looked right at Waver, whose brain, at the moment, just realized that this man knew about the Holy Grail War. Before he could open his mouth, Winston spoke again. "This is your chance to do something magnificent boy, like the heroes of old, and thus begin to fulfill your end of the bargain that we made. So, what say you and I hunt down a clown and a serial killer?"

Waver felt flabbergasted, his mouth flapping open and closed several times. Then, he found his voice. "H-how would we even start to begin to do that?"

_"With my help, of course."_

Suddenly, next to him materialized a man, with red hair, and seven scars running across his lips.

"Hello. I'm Assassin. Nice to meet you, boy."

Ignoring Waver's terrified and flabbergasted expression, the Servant of the Shadows turned towards Winston. "So, old man... shall we go and save the world?"

Then, the Overseer's voice echoed through his head...

* * *

Risei knew what he had to do, the moment that he saw the madness at the docks.

He raised up his right arm, the many leftover command seals from the previous wars glowing brightly.

_"To all contestants of the Holy Grail War, I, Risei Kotomine, hereby invoke my authority as the Overseer of the Holy Grail War. Caster and his Master have become a clear and present threat to not only this city and its inhabitants, but also to the sanctity of the Holy Grail War itself. As such, I declare a temporary truce between the other Masters, until such time as the threat of Caster, Caster's Master, and their accomplices has been neutralized._

_"As an added incentive, the first to kill Caster will receive an additional Command Seal._

_"That is all. God bless, and Godspeed, you contestants of the Holy Grail War!" _

* * *

**A/N: Things are getting big! Read, review, and enjoy**

**Hope you all enjoyed reading Zouken's death as much as I enjoyed writing it, hard as it was. **

* * *

Class: Foreigner

True Name: HP Lovecraft/ Eibon/ Abdul Alhazred

Master: Flauros

**STATS**

STR: B

AGI: C

END: B

MAN: A+

LCK: E

NP: EX

**Class Skills**

Existence Outside the Domain: EX

Divnity: B

Territory Creation: EX

Item Creation: C

**Personal Skills**

Mental Pollution: A

A life of Irrelevance: A

Summoning: A++

Innocent Monster: B

**Noble Phantasms**

Necronomicon: A+

Call of the Old Ones: EX

The Nameless City: EX


	6. Chapter 6

Fate Ragnarök Chapter 6

Overhead, the sky roared and raged with thunder and lighting, while from the rest of Fuyuki, screams of fear and madness echoed out, as well as strange and alien roars and bellows.

"So, how shall we get to the Sleeping and Nameless city? Betty, Tanny, or Tangy?"

Winston chuckled, even as the winds continued to pick up. It was like the two were simply having a casual chat about the weather. "Why, we will be taking Betty, of course. She likes you, has been itching to get back into proper combat, and, if one is going to save the world, then one should be sure do it in absolute style. Tangy and Tanny have never really been all that fond of you, for reasons that I would assume are most obvious."

Assassin nodded. "Betsy it is. What about the Vampire and the Demon?"

"They know what to do."

"Very well." He then turned back to Waver, who was doing his best, and failing, not to shake in utter terror. The feeling the Servant gave off… it was nothing short of pure _malice_.

"Why me!?" Waver exclaimed. "Why do you need _me _for this? Why are you taking me along!?"

Winston and Assassin looked oddly confused at his question. "Why not you? It's because of who you are, and, more importantly, what you are not."

Winston then gave out a sharp whistle, leaving Waver's mind to process the strange answer. Then, the low and deep _vrooming _hum of an engine blasted into the auditory range of Waver's ears. A moment later, speeding towards them through all the chaos, was the source. It was a sleek black 1966 Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham. Waver recalled seeing a picture of it in a magazine once or twice.

Wait, was it… was the car driving itself?

As it pulled to a stop in front of the three, all the while casually running over a few maddened pedestrians, Assassin walked up to it, and happily pat it upon the hood.

Winston then gestured to Waver, as, around them, the screams and the thunder intensified. "Well? Don't just stand there like a bump on a log… get in!"

Before he could really consider his actions, Waver just got into the passenger seat.

A moment later, just as he had buckled his seatbelt, they were speeding off, towards the city, and towards the madness.

* * *

The evening had been relatively ordinary.

From the sea, the City rose. From the depths came its crooning lullaby, its siren song, and its alien melodies.

Then, from the portal above the city descended a thing of beauty, majesty and horror and wrong and… it roared, and its roar filled the air with strangeness and wonder, and it caressed their ears.

The sleeper of R'lyeh. It looked upon the world, and it was unsatisfied.

When they heard it, its roar, and majesty and madness. They felt… normal. But it was everyone else that was going mad. Why were they like that?

So tasty

Had to die

KILL THEM ALL!

Who was screaming?

His plan hasbegunnowehretoturneKillthemAlLfinhersavethefewkillthemanynowehre left to run

In supplication, they ripped off their clothes, their skin, their inhibitions.

All praise the sleeping one!

Then, lightning flashed, and thunder boomed, like words of anger from a god's lips, briefly cutting through the madness.

All watched as the Sleeper of R'lyeh was knocked back, and made to stumble backwards into the sea, by the blow of a hammer.

"BY THE MIGHT OF THE ALLFATHER, YOU WILL FALL, UNHOLY CREATURES! GO BACK TO ABYSS FROM WHICH YOU SLITHERED FORTH!

When the people of Fuyuki saw the Sleeper, they felt only fear, anger, madness, and death, and they rejoiced and wept and fell upon one-another in madness.

When they saw the giant, thundering through the air on a chariot being drawn by two goats and a horse, and holding up a hammer that seemed forged from lighting, thunder, and metal…. They felt something odd, something that, as a whole, humans have never truly felt save for a few times in their short lives.

Hope.

It was sickening.

eAt/ kill, ma1m THE CITY HAS COME! None kould stop it….

Overhead, golden portals filled the sky….

* * *

The Izukos were a bit different from the other citizens of Fuyuki City

They were not like other families, for they were a bit more in tune with the invisible things of the World. Not Magi, just something more than human, to a certain extent.

So, at the moment, it felt as if they alone could see the madness around them for what it truly was.

Thus, they decided that it would be best if they tried to flee.

Soon enough, though, a horrible thing with scales and various appendages was chasing them.

This was it, though. They could not run any more. They were going to die.

The creature got closer...

Then, there came the sound of hoof beats.

Before their confused eyes, they watched as a western knight rode down the creature, trampling it to a fine paste underneath their horse's mighty hooves.

* * *

Lancer had lived a long and strange life, first as a king, and then as a Hunter. They had seen many strange, terrible, and wonderful things.

What they were seeing now, however, was certainly horrifying. As they ran down small gaggle of fishy things, a shadow fell across them. They managed to look up, to see a flying mouth with wings, easily the size of a house, descend upon them.

Before it could fall upon them, the flying mouth thing was sliced to bloody and chunky ribbons.

It was Saber.

Light as a feather, the armored swordsman lit upon the ground in front of Lancer.

For a long moment, nothing was said, as the two former allies started down one another from behind their helmets. Then, Saber spoke. "Despite the fact that we are to fight on the same side this night, my desire to end your life has not abated in the slightest, Arthur," Saber spat, as he then sliced apart a gibbering thing covered in tendrils and mouths that had tried to rush him. "When this madness ends, I shall be the one to take your head."

Lancer could do naught but nod, as they wheeled Llamrei around to face the new threat. "Very well, old friend. I shall be ready for you when the time comes. But first, these abominations must be destroyed, and the people have to be protected."

"On that… I actually agree with you, Pendragon."

Then, as one, the pair tensed, and charged forwards with sword, hoof, and lance towards a large group of mouthing, gibbering things.

In that moment, they were as knights once more.

* * *

_Screech!_

Waver was surprised that he had not torn out the safety handle by now, or that he had not fainted from pure fear. How could anyone drive a car like this!?

"Are you sure it was a good idea for an Assassin to be driving!? He doesn't even have a Riding skill, for crying out loud!"

Somehow, when he turned to glare at Waver, Assassin managed to keep the car going in a relatively straight and unswerving line, save for avoiding throngs of fleeing citizens or aquatic humanoid horrors that Waver defiantly did not want to think too much about…

"That is a very rude and narrow way to view a Servant's capabilities, Waver Velvet, and you should be ashamed that such a sentence has even passed your lips." Without looking, The Assassin then turned hard to the right, turning onto another street, and narrowly avoiding a thing careening thing with too many wings and fingers. "We are reincarnations of heroes of myth, history, and legend. Our skills are ingrained in our souls and memories and bodies, despite what our class containers might be."

To Waver's credit, he did feel slightly ashamed, although he was sure that that feeling would soon be replaced by nausea from the Servant's driving. "So… once we get to where ever the hell it is we are going, what then? Also, more to the point, WHERE THE FUCK ARE WE GOING!?"

Winston chuckled, though his face was resolute. "Once we get to the Sleeping City (our destination, and the city that is currently rising from the depths of the ocean), we will find our prey, its summoner, and his masters."

"In other words, they are the madmen whose blood must be spilled so as to end this madness could not have picked a better place to summon the Sleeping City, and all its horrors!" Assassin exclaimed, as he shifted the gears and swerved the car so sharply that it seemed as if the vehicle was tilting on a single axis for a brief moment, before righting itself and continuing on its way, towards the beach.

Then, just as Waver's previous meal was just deciding whether or not to begin its unnatural journey up his throat and out his mouth, the car skidded to a stop by the strange road leading to the alien city. Then, almost of their own accord, the passenger and back doors opened. Assassin then tapped Waver on the shoulder and pointed outwards.

"Sorry, only mortals, memories, and dead things can enter that blasted city. So, that excludes me, unfortunately. Good luck, you two! Try not to die, go insane, or both!"

With that, once Winston and Waver were out of the car, the doors slammed shut, and he sped off back into Fuyuki.

Winston placed a firm hand on Waver's shoulder. "Come Waver, it is time to end this madness. As a word of caution, I would reinforce your eyes, s much as you can. You will need to see the truth of all things here, beyond the madness. It is the only way that we will be able to survive."

Waver looked upon Fuyuki. Even from here, he could hear the screams. He swallowed, and then nodded. "Right."

With that, they took their first steps upon the strange pat towards the new city….

* * *

Risei looked upon the madness, and he could do naught but pray, though a part of him ached to rush and defend the people of the city.

Then, a portal opened over the watery city and…

_I despair for my son, that he shall never find peace…._

* * *

As Kirei pulped the head of a crazed citizen, he heard those words, echoed and echoing through his head.

That had been Father's…?

A moment later, all he heard was the sounds of a hospital…

_No…_

* * *

From in front of the graveyard, Tokiomi, Cornelius, Nigel, and Twice hurtled spells.

It was like Aylesbury all over again, so all four of them knew not hold back. It was simple survival, especially as how Archer had already left.

Then, during a brief lull, Tokiomi happened to look up… and his blood froze.

The moon, it was full, shining, and the color of blood.

No, no no no no no no no no no no!

"Not again," Tokiomi whimpered. "Not again!"

* * *

Kiritsugu's knife slit the throat of a man whose eyes were weeping blood, as he just kept laughing and laughing.

No time to think of grand and sweping plans. Lancer was in the city now. They just had to link up, and then…

_"Are we ever going to leave this city, Mr. Emiya?_

_…_

_…._

Impossible.

She was dead.

_"You look like shit, Kiri."_

Stop it.

_"I feel hopeful that we can survive this, my boy. Just keep believing."_

Shut up.

_"Kill the few, and you can save the many."_

Shut up, shut uP, SHUT UP!

With a scream of rage, Kiritsugu let loose a long and powerful blast of gunfire from the Calico. Each ghost vanished as they became perforated with bullets.

_Few…. Many…_

* * *

This tentacle face was getting annoying! For over half an hour, Magni had been fighting the freak, and he was starting to get really annoying.

Know what, screw it! Time to call in a big gun!

He raised his hammer, his father's hammer, to the sky, and it caught a great bolt of lightning.

**_Mjolnir!_**

A moment later, tentacle face was sent hurtling past the Sleeping city, and into the sea.

Just as Magni was about to give chase, another beast decided to get in his way, a thing with too many scales eyes, and tongues, though no mouths.

Before it could approach, and before he could swat it aside, it suddenly stiffened, looked over his shoulder, and then… screamed like a little girl and ran away.

In confusion, Magni looked over his shoulder, and his eyes widened in surprise. Walking towards him out of a car was a lean man, dressed in modern clothes, with… long red and hair and… seven scars over his lips…"

"Loki!?" Magni exclaimed in shock.

Assassin smirked at Rider's outburst. "Yes and no. In this container, I am only partly Loki. I have all his memories, skills, but I come from a point in time when I'm not yet him."

He then looked Magni up and down. "Is that really you, little Magni? My oh my, you did get big. Guess carrying daddy's hammer really bulked you up, huh? But, no time to really chat, I have some things to take care of. Try not to die, and we may talk later!"

Deciding not to think about what had just happened, Mangi then sped after where the Sleeping one had fallen.

Time to kill the freak!

* * *

How long had they been traveling through this strange city? It was taking all that Waver had just to keep his wits about him, even as he kept reinforcing his eyes, over and over again, as per Winston's command. But, why was he listening to him, again?

When he had first reinforced his eyes, what he had seen had made Waver scream in pain and horror, only to be shaken back to himself by Winston. "Don't look away from it, Waver," he had told him. "The only way to truly defeat a horrible and evil thing is to face it head on, not to turn and run away from it. Look upon the horror, learn from it, and realize that it is, in reality, sad and small and pathetic, thus never letting it be repeated. Never forget that, my boy."

Like all he had heard, Waver felt he had no choice but to store it away in his mind.

As they carefully walked, minutes became hours became days became weeks became months became years became seconds became minutes, over and over and over again.

Through it all, Winston seemed to keep a steady grip on things, if in a confusing sort of way.

"How long has it been," Waver asked. Was it the first time, the second?

"Best not think about that, my boy," came the reply, as they traversed the scaly land. Before, it had been smooth.

Fair enough. "Do you even know where we are going?"

"I have a fair idea, though it has been a long time since I traversed the halls of this accursed city."

"You have been here before?"

"Once. It was an experience that I… will not soon forget, much as I might wish to."

Then, Winston looked about the empty city and its refusal to commit to the laws of physics and reality, with an almost appreciative look in his eyes.

"Although, in a way, it is rather grotesquely amazing, wouldn't you say? All of this horror, birthed from the diseased and tormented mind and imagination of a single man, and then, given true life from the belief and fear and fascination of countless millions of his fans and readers over the past several decades. And why?

"Simple… it's because, at their heart, people wanted, and still want, to believe that there is something evil and _wrong, _floating just outside their perceptions, that there are mysteries that they are not meant to know, lest it should drive them mad. They gradually replaced their desire for something to believe in for something to fear and be ignorant of, but never truly acknowledge. They still do, still desire such things. Such a belief is especially prevalent in a city like Fuyuki, with all its urban legends of strange things happening every sixty years."

Suddenly, he stopped, making Waver bump into him.

"What is it?"

All Winston said was one word, as sounds to terrible to describe seemed to come towards their direction. "Run."

In the next moment, they were running. Something was following them!

On and on they ran, up and down stairs, around corners and over and under empty and haunting bridges. They dared not stop and try to hide.

But, eventually, they found themselves in a corner. The wall seemed unable to make up its mind between being smooth, solid, gelatinous, scaly, sharp, hot, and cold, and then all of them or none of them.

"Fuck!" Waver exclaimed, his eyes starting to strain. "What now?"

Winston turned to face whatever was behind them. "Find a way to open that wall, Waver Velvet! Strengthen your eyes to their limit, discover its weak points, and I will hold off these monstrosities! But, whatever you do, do not look behind you, no matter what you may hear! Keep your eyes forward! Find a weak point and bring down that fucking wall!"

Seeing no other choice, Waver proceeded upon his task.

The harder that he reinforced his eyes, the more that Waver could see the interlocking and intricate geometries and ideals and abstracts that constituted the wall's being, as well as everything else all around them. But there was no weak point! It was all so fucking headache inducing!

The old man now seemed to be facing the unseen horde that Waver could hear approaching them. Out of the corner of his eye, Waver watched as the man seemed to trace a strange, glowing, and arcane sign into the air, and a wave of flame burst out, incinerating them all, leaving only an acrid and horrific stench lingering in the air.

"There will be more before too many moments pass! Get the wall down, Waver!"

"I can't! There's no weak point! Everything is too interlaced and nonsensical!"

"You have to get us past that wall! You don't even have to use a spell, just pure, undiluted power! Use it to get that wall open!"

Tears of exertion slowly formed at the corners of Waver's eyes, and his hands began to shake. "I can't! My circuits aren't of any good quality! I'm nothing and nobody! You do it! I can't do anything!"

Winston shook his head, as he started to trace more strange sigils in the air. "I cannot be the one to topple down that wall, for I have no circuits, and I am not the one meant to do it. This city, and everything within it, is the result of a Servant's abilities! At their core, Servants are nothing more than sentient clumps of mage craft, which means that only magi can safely interact with them! Thus, only a magus with a specific number and quality of circuits can ever hope to safely interact with this place, and that magi, right now, is you!"

Waver's circuits were now starting to heat up under his skin. It was a terrible pain. But the wall was still not moving or budging or crumbling. With more tears of blood, his hands started to drop to his side.

Behind them, another large group of horrors could be heard in the distance, slavering towards them. Winston continued to draw more and more symbols in the air.

Winston than spoke again. "A thing that you magi can never seem to wrap your paranoid little heads around is that power is not just related to what bloodline and prestige that you are a part of! It is belief and hope that drives the world!

"In the distant past, the ancient ancestors of humanity looked forward, towards the horizon, and, even as they died, and the World sought to destroy them, they _believed_, and they _hoped! _They believed that they could evolve, that they could move forward, and that, though the path would be dangerous, they would make it past that horizon! They _hoped _that all would be good in the end, and that hope, and belief, was _rewarded!_"

The horde was getting closer! Their claws and slavering and madness seemed almost at their throats, despite how many Winston seemed to incinerate!

"Belief and hope are what make humanity, magus or mortal, so damnably unique, and what makes humanity stand apart from all the gods, phantasmal beasts, and dragons and things on this world, because it knows how to _believe and how to hope! _It believes that both the best and worst can happen and has hope that the sun will rise and fall the next day, and the next, without end!_"_

Closer, and the wall was still not budging, though a thin tear of blood was beginning to run down Waver's left eye. "You only need to but believe, Waver Velvet! Believe, and not even the sky will be your limit! Believe, and you can be better than all those who mocked you! _Believe, _and you will be one step closer to your goal! _Believe, and you can destroy that fucking wall!_"

As his words ran through Waver's head, amidst sounds that reminded him of the mocking laughter and jeers of all the professors and students of the Clock Tower, he realized that the man was right. He had come this far… he would not back down now.

Not this time!

He would show them all!

Focusing with all he had, his meager circuits lit themselves along his arms, and he kept reinforcing his eyes.

_I can do this._

_I believe! _

_I have hope! _

With a bellow, he put his hands back upon the hard, slimy, soft, and wet surface of the wall ignoring the growls emanating from it, and _grabbed _at the concepts within…

* * *

Glen had no idea what was going on in the main city, but, sadly, he knew that there was not much that could be done about, especially not by one old man.

All he and Martha could do was hope that Waver and Rider were safe.

Suddenly there was a noise from the kitchen. "Martha?"

When he entered, it was to come upon a strange and unsettling sight.

It was a man, with long red hair and seven scars over his lips, casually sitting at the kitchen table, along with Martha, and a young woman with long brown hair. Both seemed more than a bit terrified. In front of the man was a large bowl of apples, as well as a few apple cores littering the floor around him.

The man looked up and smiled a distorted grin. "Ah, the patriarch of this fine dwelling! So glad of you to join us! Martha here was just telling my friend and me all about Waver Velvet. He is the reason I am here, after all."

"How… how do you know our grandson?"

The man chuckled at that. "Ah, yes, your _grandson_." The man then began to bite into one of the apples from the bowl in front of him. "Such a remarkable your boy. Your lovely wife was just telling me _all _about him, and his large _cousin_."

Glen swallowed. "What do you want, mister? How did you get in here?"

The man seemed to be surprised at that question, and then he just burst out laughing, as he polished off another apple. "My oh my. It's amazing how many people have been asking me that question in that city. Guess things really do move in endless and repetitive cycles."

He ate one more apple, core and all, in a single, inhuman bite, and then stood from his seat. "As for what it is that I want? Well, that is very simple, very simple indeed. I just want to tell you that… I am not going to regret any of what I'm about to do to you, whatsoever."

He never seemed to move, and then, Glen felt something warm and wet run down the skin of his throat, followed by Martha.

As Glen's legs lost their strength, and he collapsed and started to die upon the floor of his kitchen, the last thing he saw was the Red-Haired man as he killed the woman by impaling her through her chest with what seemed to be a blast of compress air, like an invisible bullet. The last thing he heard was the man raising his bloodstained hands to the sky, and shouting, "I dedicate these deaths to Waver Velvet!"

Then, there was nothing…

* * *

_I believe that I can do this!_

Suddenly, Waver felt an odd sensation, surging through his veins, like cool water after a hot day under the sun, and like adrenaline surging through his veins. With a scream, his circuits seemed to glow with an almost blinding radiance.

In his eyes, all the invisible circuitry and pathways and concepts and ideas that made up its existence began to unravel. It was working! Then… from the wall burst forth a strange and horrible face, and it actually howled and screamed in pain!

It opened! He pulled, pushed, and lifted, and it began to open and give way!

* * *

Flauros looked up from his viewing of the various projections of Fuyuki.

The intruders were coming.

How?

From deep within the mental labyrinth of Flauros' mind, Lev cracked a weak smile.

_Well done, Waver Velvet. Well done._

Flauros tried to turn his attention back to the projections but found his mind ill at-ease. With a snarl, he dismissed them, and then turned to Ryuunosuke, Caster, and Foreigner. "We have intruders. I feel it is time that we dealt with them…"

* * *

As the two Servants sped down the corridor, the Heroic Spirit of the Spell suddenly skidded to a halt. Confused, Foreigner stopped as well, noticing the strange expression upon the clown's face.

"What is it?" The Heroic Spirit of the Unknown Void asked. "We have our orders."

Mephistopholes looked thoughtful for a moment. "that we do, I cannot deny…"

A strange grin than split his face. "But… I think I have a more fun idea!"

* * *

They had no idea how long they had been fighting, just that there seemed to be no end to their enemies.

Luckily for them, Servants did not grow tired.

As Saber and Lancer readied for another wave of monsters, the sound of mocking laughter caught their attentions.

They looked up, to see a ghoulish sight; a figure, dressed like a demonic jest. Clutched in his arms were a sobbing child, and a pair of large, twisted shears resting against the child's throat.

The clown laughed. "Most magnificent, the pair of you, fighting back against the encroaching darkness. Its enough to make a heart leap with pride and renewed purpose." He then cackled. "In other words, just the sort of thing that I, Caster, despise!"

Saber gripped his swords tightly. "Let that child go, Caster, and then prepare die with some semblance of dignity."

The clown just laughed. "A most tempting offer, Sir Knight, but I'm afraid that I must decline. But, as a parting gift…"

As if he were cutting paper, his shears _snipped _the child's head clear off.

With a distorted scream of rage, Saber burst forward, strange black mist and lighting trailing behind him.

A moment later, as the clown dashed away, the area where he had been standing exploded with a mighty burst, enveloping Saber completely.

For a moment, Lancer almost felt the worst for their former comrade, their former knight, but, a moment later, a litany of words so blue that they would have blackened the ears of a sailor filled the air.

"Where is he!?"

"I suspect that he's already gone, Saber. But, we don't have time to worry about that. Come, we still have to protect this city…."

* * *

As he sped along through the city, Caster laughed.

That was such fun! The look on the faces of those idiotic knights!

"CASTER!"

A massive thing then slammed to the ground a few meters in front of him. As the smoke cleared, Caster dodged a burst of lighting that emanated from within it. Then, as the dust settled and cleared, Caster saw who had just attacked him.

It was Rider, covered in strange and black blood that seemed filled with starlight.

"TIME TO DIE, MURDERER!" he bellowed.

The Foulest Fiend in the World simply laughed at that declaration, throwing behind a few curses as he then started running in another direction, his speed increased enough to stay far enough ahead of the Servant of the mount, who wasting no time in giving chase.

* * *

As it screamed its alien melody out, the wall began to shake and tremor, and then seemed to disintegrate and walk away, all at once. Behind him and Winston, the slavering of the horde suddenly quieted.

Though he still did not look back, he knew that whatever had been pursing them was gone, as Winston let out a sigh of relief.

Then, Waver felt a warm sensation on his left hand. More curious than anything else, Waver lifted it up… huh; his hand was missing two of its fingers. They must have exploded.

It then took one second for him to register what had happened, and then two seconds to start screaming…

Or, at least, he should have been screaming. For some reason, he just did not feel like it.

Weird.

Winston gently grabbed Waver's ruined hand, whispered something old and unheard, and a light glow suffused Waver's hand. It didn't hurt. "All power demands sacrifice, Waver Velvet. Just know that you will be all the greater from this. I promise."

He then pointed forwards, towards the sprawling metropolis that they now found themselves in. "But come, we have to continue onwards. The longer we tarry, the more fucked the world will end up. Our journey has yet to reach its conclusion."

* * *

Kiritsugu blinked, and all those who he had been firing upon were gone, and he looked upon an ocean. It was a colorless void, and it stretched beyond anything that could be defined as a horizon.

_A shadow seemed _**appear before _him and_**_it _was like none that he had seen…

_"few…. Many…save_

The scene shifted.

A white wolf with red eyes and covered from snout to tail in scars was perched upon a black tree in the middle of an infinite white landscape. At the base of the tree were three pups; one white, one purple, and one red. They looked up and watched the wolf with rapt attention.

Kiritsugu watched as the wolf descended in front of the pups. It died, and, from its corpse rose a hulking, shadowy monster, more terrible than anyone could ever hope to begin to described.

One by one, the monster devoured the pups…

Then, the tree was gone. Kiritsugu looked down, and saw that he was holding a detonator, his thumb already pressing down on the button.

He looked up and saw, in the far-off distance, a mushroom cloud rose to prominence, accompanied by the sounds of endless and unwavering screams.

It was all he could do to keep himself from screaming out in rage and sorrow at the familiar sight.

* * *

Soon enough, after the wall, Winston and Waver then found themselves at the end of the path, with two separate entranceways.

'So, what now? Which path do we take?" Waver asked.

Wisnton sighed. "I am afraid that here is where we must part ways, Mr. Velvet."

Waver looked at him, fear, and surprise alight on his face. "What!? Are you insane? I can't do this by myself!"

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Doubting yourself. It is very beneath you, my boy. I believe in you. You can do this. I know that you can."

"How… how do you know that I can do this?"

Winston then smiled, and the expression seemed… almost grandfatherly. "Because, my boy, I have faith. Sometimes, it's just as simple as that. Good luck, Waver Velvet, and remember, sometimes what you need will always be within reach, if you believe."

Without another word, the man turned ad headed down the left-hand stairs.

For a long moment, Waver stood still, looking at the entrance that loomed before him.

Then, he ran down it.

A moment later, he found himself in a large room, filled with cages, and it all smelled worse than a charnel house.

Then, with a morbid curiosity, Waver looked inside one of the cages...

Bodies. Dozens of small bodies...

Children! They were all dead!

Despite himself, a good portion of the contents of Waver's stomach soon exited from his mouth, and onto the floor in a steaming mass.

"Wow, you really have a weak stomach, huh?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Waver saw a flash of metal...

* * *

It seemed less a room, and more like the inner stomach of some massive beast.

All of this, from belief and fear.

Wednesday felt a bit envious. But, then again, how could he not?

The echoing sound of footsteps lanced through the area, tearing through his thoughts.

It was a tall man, dressed in green, with a green top hat perched upon his head. "I already know the answer, but I feel I should ask anyway. Is Lev available, or am I talking to one of the other two? And, if so, which one; Laiunor, or the Pillar?"

Eldritch energy began to gather in the palm of the man-in-green's hands. "I am Flauros, a child of the Ancient. You were a fool to come here, Hanged One."

Wednesday shook his head in reserved grief, though his face remained steely and focused. "Lev, my old friend… If you can hear me, within the confines of your own mind, then just know that I thank you. The vessel is most magnificent. He will be the one. Your sacrifice will be remembered and lauded through the halls of the Afterlife."

Flauros' stolen eyes narrowed in annoyance. "As I said, you were a fool to have come here." In the next moment, the energy left Flauros' hands, and soared right towards Winston.

He deftly blocked the attack with a spear that seemed to sprout from his ash cane, and Wednesday then returned the attack with a blast of fiery runes from the tip of his spear.

The battle was joined.

Back and forth they exchanged spells and blows, lighting up the room with their battle.

One was a being made for a higher purpose, and animated by the whims and desires of an ancient and formidable intelligence, whilst the other an old warrior, full of memories and old stories, though still vital to a certain extent.

But, eventually, Wednesday was unable to keep up, starved as he had been for the past few centuries, even with the meager amount of power gleaned from the Continental.

A spell slipped by his guard, and sent him crashing to the floor, though he kept a firm grip on his spear.

It hurt to breath.

Flauros stalked towards him, like shark that had sensed blood in the water. "You truly have fallen far, old one. You will die here, and then I will be able to enact my father's plan. Then... the world will be saved."

Winston weakly shook his head from where he lay upon the ground. "This is not saving the world, oh sad and wretched Demon Pillar. This is not what _he _wanted for you to do, Flauros. Neither this, nor what your _father and brothers _truly desire."

Another blast sent him rolling and tumbling further back. "Stop talking, Hanged One."

But Winston ignored him, even as a bruise spread along his chest. "I mean, summoning the sleeping city, and the Outer Gods? Tell me, how long did it take, trapped within your prison of genetics, magic circuits, and crests, for you to go completely insane, Demon Pillar?"

A third blast, and now Winston could taste blood, as well as a very loose tooth. Flauros snarled. "Be quiet, One-Eye. You are in no position to judge or stop me. At the height of your power, you might have held a narrow chance of defeating me, but as you are now, in this reduced and pitiful state? You are nothing more than the memory of dust and ash, floating and dissapating upon the wind." As he spoke, the man's shadow shifted into what could only be described as a massive pillar of flesh and blinking eyes.

Wednesday then slowly and painfully got to his feet with his spear. "You might be right about that. But, the thing about memories… they can be all as bit as powerful as the real thing." As he said this, he drew within himself every last bit of power he still had. The room then began to fill with the smell of ozone and excess oxygen, as his spear vanished into the ether.

"What are you doing, One Eye?" Flauros demanded.

Winston Wednesday smiled. "You know… there's an expression that I have always felt a special kinship with, and one that has always resonated with me. Would you like to know what that saying is?"

"Stop babbling, fool, and try to die with some dignity."

Winston chuckled. "The saying is thus; _These violent delights… have violent ends_."

As Flauros' eyes widened in belated realization, Wednesday swiftly withdrew from his coat pocket a lighter, embossed with the symbol of a raven. "I devote these deaths… to Waver Velvet."

Before Flauros could fling another burst of power, Wednesday flicked on the flame, and a massive burst of lightning and fire filled the entire room.

Neither the memory, nor the Demon Pillar, had time to even scream as they were reduced to ash.

* * *

Waver ran out and hid behind a pillar, clutching his side where he had been slashed by the man's knife. He then heard the slow and steady sounds of the man's footsteps, as if he were in no real hurry. "Sorry to do that to ya, kiddo. Nothing personal, ya know? It's just what I do."

Despite himself, Waver could not remain silent. "So, then why?"

"Why what?" came the replying question.

"Why all this? Why kill all those children!?"

The footsteps stopped, as if the man was thinking. "Why not? I like to kill, and they are so easy to kill. It was a no brainer, little man!"

Why had his footsteps stopped? Where was he!?

Then, Waver's breath almost caught in his throat.

"Found ya!"

He felt it, more than saw it, as the man almost fell upon him from behind.

With a strangled scream, Waver almost fell forward to avoid the knife. He barley dodged it, though not the man's fist, which proceeded to smash into his face, making him stumble back. The man laughed again. "Ah, man, I've just got to say, you are exactly like teacher described to me. So inquisitive, and not one who gives up. Guess that's why you're here, huh?"

He dropped his knife to the ground, and slowly advanced on Waver. "So, you're a magus, huh? It's just so weird how I never knew that any of ya weirdos existed before this crazy war existed. Though, I guess that I am one you now, mostly because I can do this!"

Lines of turquoise lit along his arm as he gestured and sang out a word that sounded like the screeching of dying children and claws on a chalkboard. Then, both of Waver's legs suddenly twisted and exploded from the knee down, making him skid to the ground.

The pain.

The PAIN!

Waver's pain-filled screams filled the cavern, mixed with the lunatic's laughter.

Barely able to think, Waver tried his best to crawl away, while the lunatic murderer slowly followed him, cackling all the while, as he shouted the word "COOL!" over and over again...

* * *

_I devote these deaths to Waver Velvet._

* * *

Caster ran, and Rider gave chase throughout Fuyuki, with nothing standing in his way, while the Servant of the Spell occasionally threw back a small wave of curses every now and then, though Rider simply barreled through them. Still, at the rate he was going, the giant was going to burn out his prana in no time, especially with that hammer of his! So, all Caster had to do was keep ahead of his wrathful pursuer, and then, once he was on his last dregs, Caster would take his head! Snicker-snack!

How funny!

Then, Caster's luck ran out.

Servants were beings that had once been human, and now were both elevated and restricted by bodies forged from pure prana and anchored into the world by one of the most powerful devices in the world.

Even the weakest of Servants can still rip apart a man with its bare hands, could still seem more graceful than a diva dancer, and run faster than a cheetah.

But, at their core, they were still human, despite what their luck might be.

And, sometimes, humans lose their footing, and that is exactly what happened to Mephistopheles.

As he ran, something zipped out, and sheared off both his feet.

As he tumbled, his spell fizzled out. As he managed to raise his head, he saw the red-haired man from earlier, the one who had helped them raise the city. He had blown off Caster's legs.

Despite it all, all that the Foulest Fiend in the World could do… was just laugh at it all.

The red-haired man then looked past the downed Servant of the Spell. "Take the shot, little Magni! End this madness!"

With a roar that seemed to shake the very heavens themselves, Magni Thorson Slammed his father's hammer down upon the laughing Mephistopheles with all the considerable might of a falling comet.

All Caster could manage was one final giggle, and then… the Caster Class Servant was nothing but a smear on the ground. A moment later, he was away again, in a burst of lightning. A moment later, Rider was then gone in another flash of lightning.

Back to the fray! More squid heads and monsters to kill!

* * *

High in the sky, Gilgamesh flew about on one of his treasures, the flying vehicle known as the Vimana, while sending down a few bursts of treasures every now and then.

How disgusting. This thing had come from the collective belief of humankind?

Due to his own nature and lineage, The King of Uruk had a better idea than most in existence of the power of belief, and how the World worked. Thus, he knew what had truly birthed the Sleeping City back into existence.

Truly, how far the subjects of his garden had fallen, to have any kind of belief in such disgusting things.

It made him tempted to wipe everything out with his two greatest treasures… but no, that would be demeaning to them.

Besides, watching the son of the Thunder God raise his father's hammer high, as he fought and defeated the Sleeping One, Gilgamesh had to concede to the idea that, perhaps, the residents of his garden had some potential left in their tainted little souls.

Then, another thing caught his eye.

A gray horse, thundering up the sky, over the Sleeping city, and upon that horse…

Lancer.

Intrigued, Gilgamesh observed as the Figure removed its helm, to reveal… a face of such radiant beauty as to have shamed that bitch, Ishtar.

Then, he watched as she raised her empty hand high, and, appearing in that armored hand was a swirling lance, that shone with a light that the King of Uruk had not seen in a very long time.

As she unleashed her Noble Phantasm, one thing crossed the King of Hero's mind at that moment.

"How beautiful… I will make her mine."

* * *

Assassin smirked as he watched Magni depart. Truly, the little runt was so much like his father.

Then, Assassin, felt something stab into his back, and then again, and again and again, and again and again. A total of seven times.

With less interest that he would give an ant carrying a piece of food on the ground, the Servant of the Shadows looked over his shoulder at the one who had stabbed him.

Ah, a Foreigner. He had not seen that particular class in a long time. And, look, it was a familiar face!

Howard Lovecraft let go of the knife, his pale face trembling in fear. "I didn't recognize you before, even though you knew my name, for the Song was whispering in my ears. But now, it's gone, and I know you! How are you still alive!? What are you!?"

With a smile, Assassin yanked out the dagger from his back, heedless of the blood flowing from his wounds, and started to slowly walk towards the trembling Servant, like how a predator would slowly corner its scared prey. "I am that which lurks in the nightmares of your _Old Ones_. I am that voice in the back of your head that keeps telling to be afraid. I am the idea of death, and murder. I am Assassin, and you, my dear Howard, are no longer useful to me in this War. As in life, and so in death, you were only ever an insignificant pawn.

"Funny thing is, there was no real reason for you to be summoned. You made no actual contribution to this War, save for one thing, which I will not tell you. All you really did was just blow up a few buildings, and then kidnap and kill a few dozen women and children. In the grand scheme of things, and all in all, You, Caster, Caster's Master, and Flauros… there was no reason, no point, for any of you to have even existed in the first place."

Assassin's smile could not be more mocking than if he had tried. "So, in essence, you were the most irrelevant thing in this War."

Lovecraft blinked, and then, he screamed. It was a primal thing full of rage, and sorrow. Rage at his lot in life, as well as sorrow. As he screamed, he reared back his fist and charged forward. "TAKE THAT BACK! I AM NOT INSIGNIFICANT! I AM H.P. LOVECRAFT, the HERALD OF THE ANCIENT ONES! I WILL HAVE RESPECT!"

The Servant of the Shadows, who proceeded to squeeze it so tightly that all the bones in the hand seemed to turn to powder, almost lazily caught his fist. As the Foreigner-class Servant screamed in agony, Assassin then clutched him tightly in a crushing embrace. One of the seven markings on his lips began to glow.

As Howard struggled in vain, The Servant of the Shadows leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Though your writings will live on, as ever, you will never be significant, and you will never deserve respect. Goodbye, Howard."

Then, Howard began to scream, as, over and over again, some invisible force began to open wound after wound after wound all over his body!

After a full minute of screams, H.P. Lovecraft's thrashing movements finally stilled, and he vanished into motes of sickly blue light.

Assassin chuckled. That had been entertaining, and there was still so much still yet to come.

How exciting!

He then looked towards the Sleeping city. "Ah, how silly of me. Mustn't leave my things behind!"

Without another word, he dove into the sea….

* * *

The lunatic man idled over and grabbed Waver by the neck, making him briefly ignore the pain radiating from the twisted and seared wrecks that were now his legs. He then lifted up the boy, making his useless legs dangle. "It's kind of funny, but, all my life, I never really understood why people think that what I do is wrong, or why it's wrong to kill. Doctors and soldiers and policemen do it all the time, so, why not me? It's just a good and fun hobby, nothing more. Plus, in a way, what I'm doing is a good thing, a service, to God and Humanity, but not in a 'clearing-the-trash' sort of way. I'm just showing people how to kill, and I am educating them about death. The only reason that I targeted women and children, like you, are because their just easy targets. No sex stuff whatsoever. Also, because children are just such good learners!"

He threw Waver to the ground, and then stomped hard on his ribs, though, the teen's mind was more focused on the insanity before him.

The man was mad!

The killer cackled. "So, then, when the police start calling what I do the "work of a demon, I am just not sure whether to feel insulted, or honored. Guess it's a bit of both really."

He then began to press down on Waver's chest, hard. "I men, in a weird way, I think that what I do reflects that of God, and his own love! Like me, I think that he loves screams, blood, and despair! If he didn't, there's no way that fresh intestines could be so colorful! That's why I'm sure the world is filled with God's love, and that what I do just spreads it all around! Besides, if all those action movies had just been more realistic in their deaths, then, I honestly don't think that…"

"Shut the fuck up!" Waver's outburst seemed to catch the man off guard, and made him stop stomping on him, though the lunatic's foot did not lift from Waver's chest.

Right now, Waver did not feel pain, or fear. He just felt angry, angry that this man even existed. "Shut the fuck up, you god-damned psychopath! What you do isn't for some fucking higher purpose! You're nothing more than the idiotic kid that burns ants with a magnifying glass and never grew up! All you do is cause harm and destruction, never once thinking about how it affects others! You claim to love, but you don't, you're just too twisted to admit it, that you are so fucking insane that you don't care about anything! You don't deserve to live!"

With another bellow, Waver reinforced his fist and arm, and then slammed his fist into the lunatic's knee with all the might he could muster. The _snap _filled the air.

As the crazed man fell to the side, shrieking in pain, Waver drew himself up with all his might, and propelled forward, tackling the serial killer. "My name is Waver Velvet, and I swear that I will put an end to your madness and your life!"

For a good while, they fought with one another like that, clawing and punching and rolling on the ground, though the man was laughing and smiling all the while, as if it were nothing more than a game to him. But, alas, the man was just stronger than Waver, and, soon enough, the man had Waver on his back, and was now starting to stranglehim.

The man's hands were like a tight vice around Waver's neck, no matter how much he scratched or pulled at them. "Well, I have to admit, you got balls, kid, and that speech of yours was really cool and all, but I am afraid that this is where we will have to part ways. You lost, and I won, simple as that! Just do me a favor, and look me in the eye as you die, okay? That way, I can make sure you feel my love as you die!"

The corners of Waver's vision were starting to darken as the strangulation cut off his oxygen. A part of his brain wondered if this was where he would die. At least he would die trying to avenge those kids…

No! he would not die here!

_I believe that I will survive and kill this psychopath!_

Once again, like at the wall, the strange and cool sensation lanced its way through his nerves. Waver's hand then felt something metallic, long, and sharp as it cut into his palm.

Without thinking, Waver grabbed the object, and then rammed it straight into the killer's neck.

The man looked utterly confused at what had just happened. With a shaking hand, he released his grip around Waver's neck, and then reached up to his own neck, and touched the blood gushing from the hole in his neck.

He looked at his shaking hand, and then… he laughed. He laughed as more blood dripped onto Waver's face. With a scream, Waver began to stab him, over and over and over again, in the neck, arm, and side! Finally, the man fell off of Waver, and, with a last wet and gurgling laugh, the serial killer died.

As Waver gasped in one lungful of air, everything seemed to slow down as the adrenaline left his veins, and he looked at the object in his hand.

It was a spearhead, engraved with old runes and wolves and ravens. A moment later, it vanished into a shower of sparks, and a new pain lanced itself onto his right forearm.

A moment later, the city began to shake. It was an instinctual feeling, but Waver knew that he did not have much time.

With a grunt, despite how tired he felt, he slowly began to drag himself out across the floor, with no actual direction in mind...

* * *

Outside, something seemed to change. The madness and horror seemed to lessen. The people stopped screaming and attacking each other, as sanity dawned in their eyes once more. Lancer realized it as the window of opportunity that it was.

Now was their chance. Destroy the city, and the madness would end.

With a flick of the reigns, Lancer directed Llmarei upwards, the horse's hooves impacting against the sky and air as if they were striking against solid land.

From the air, high over the twisted city, Lancer raised their lance high, the lance had defined their very being, since they had left the sword behind, so very long ago.

_Holy Lance, anchor!"  
"Let light be released from the Ends of the World. It's thirteen fangs shall split the heavens and connect the land and the horizon. _

_Anchor of the Storm!_

**_"Rhongomyniad"! _**

Upon the utterance of its true name, the power of the Holy Lance descended upon the Sleeping City, now bereft of any anchors or masters, with such might, that all who looked upon the blast felt… at peace.

It was by no means a light that inspired hope, or despair. Merely… a light of understanding that all things must end.

Even the World.

But, that did not mean that one could still not shine as bright as they can, at the world's end...

* * *

He had to keep going, keep crawling! But he was so tired... he could not go on.

As the last vestiges of his strength left his body, and his eyes rolled in the back of his head, Waver could have sworn that he heard Winston's voice, whispering in his ear...

_You will not die here, Waver Velvet. It is not yet your time. You still have a purpose._

_Live, and find your strength. _

_Through sacrifice will come strength, and through strength… will come greatness. _

* * *

When he came to, he found himself beating his fists against the asphalt.

With a shuddering breath, Kiritsugu rose from the ground, fished about for a syringe, and jabbed it into his neck, letting the elixir fill his being again, calming his thoughts once more.

_Few… many…_

_Let uss in..._

The voices quieted.

He then looked to his right, and saw a peculiar sight.

It was Waver Velvet. The boy's left hand was heavily scarred, and his legs were nothing but twisted bits of charred flesh and bone from the knees down.

His Servant was nowhere to be seen.

It was the perfect opportunity. With a groan, Kiritsugu bled over, and pressed the Thomson Contender against Velvet's head.

For a long moment, Kiritsugu held the barrel of the Contender against the unconscious boy's head, his finger firmly on the trigger.

_Kill the boy. What is one life against your wish for a better tomorrow?_

His hand, his left hand, it shook.

With a heavy sigh, he holstered the gun, and then bent down and picked up the boy's comatose body, putting him over his shoulder.

"Do not touch a hair on my master's head, lest I turn you to paste. I won't let you kill him!"

With a tired sigh, Kiritsugu turned to look at Rider, who had just appeared behind him, covered in lighting, and gripping a massive hammer in his right hand as if it weighed nothing at all.

"I am not going to kill him," The Magus killer said, to the wrathful giant. "In all honesty, I am going to help him. He is stable now, but he still needs medical attention, Rider. Besides, there has been enough madness tonight, even for me. Still, do what you wish. I don't really care."

With that, he started to walk past the giant servant. Without looking, Kiritsugu knew that the Giant was following him.

* * *

With a shaky exhalation of breath, Tokiomi dabbed the blood from his forehead, as he sat upon the park bench. Next to him, Cornelius just let out a bark of laughter, while Twice and Nigel were busy administering aid to anyone they could find. It was not hard, as dozens upon hundreds of civilians were all wounded and/or unmoving.

This had all been from the power of a Servant.

Madness. Nothing but madness.

Cornelius laughed again at the devastation before them, and then turned to Tokiomi. He, Nigel, aand Twice had been the one to free Tokiomi from his madness, during their little battle at the graveyard, thaks to the three's...unique condition.

Thankfully, Dreamer's grave was unharmed. "What now?" Cornelius asked.

Tokiomi breathed deeply once more. "We return our attentions to the War and prepare to take the Lesser Grail for ourselves."

He then stood. "But first, I must see to my wife and daughter, and make sure that they are unharmed from all this madness…

* * *

When Kirei woke up, it was to find himself upon his bed in the church, with his father's worried face looking down over him.

"Thank heaven that you are alright, my son. I had feared that you had been lost to the night's madness."

Kirei said nothing and slowly sat up in the bed, only for his father to gently but firmly push him back down. "You have to rest, my son. It has been a long and terrible night. Rest, and you will feel better, come the morning."

Kirei watched his father depart from the room, and he still remained silent, instead letting his thoughts roil about in his head.

What he had heard, it must have simply been borne as a result of the madness induced by those unholy creatures, right?

_I fear for his soul_.

Surely, it was not possible… surely, he did not know….

Did he?

Did his father know?

* * *

Irisviel hugged little Sakura tightly to her. Through the few familiars that she had sent out, what Irisviel had seen had been nothing short of terrifying.

But, no matter what, she would protect this little girl.

Then, the front doors opened.

It was Kiritsugu, and over his shoulder was slung the unconscious form of Rider's Master. The giant himself was right behind them, marveling at the size of the Einzbern mansion.

Kiritsugu looked at his wife. "Hello, Iri. I think that we need some help."

A moment later, he collapsed.

* * *

When Tokiomi had enetered the house where he had Aoi and Rin staying, a part of him had feared the worst.

He had been right to fear.

He had found Rin sobbing, sitting by her mother's dead body, a single gunshot through Aoi's chest.

Tokiomi knew almost right way who was responsible, as he gathered his remaining daughter in his arms, and held her close.

He would make him pay. He would make the bastard suffer.

By the Kaleidoscope, The Magus Killer would die, and at Tokiomi's hand.

* * *

_Unknown_

On the coast of Russia, at an unregistered naval base that did not exist, a massive force was getting to mobilize, and all under the watchful eye of its commander.

Stuart Strezenov was a solidly built Russian-and-Siberian man of fifty years, with an almost albino-like complexion, watched over the proceedings as the planes and trucks were all loaded up. He cracked his powerful tattooed knuckles (reminders from a time in his life spent in a gulag in Siberia) as he watched his men move and mill about their base, carrying out their tasks with clockwork ability and precision.

They would be leaving very soon. He could not wait.

Suddenly, his mobile phone began to ring, making the rest of his vest subtly vibrate. He flipped it open, and… he recognized the number.

His already pale face becoming whiter than bone, he slowly put.

_"Hello Stuart. I was just calling to see how things are progressing."_

"This is indeed an unexpected honor, Mr. C. I am happy to inform you that everything is progressing smoothly."

_"That is good to hear. You have done well, these past twenty years. Your shame has been erased."_

"Thank you, sir. Your goodwill is truly a great reward for me. We shall be heading towards Fuyuki with the next three hours."

_"Good. You know what to do, Mr. Strezenov, once you reach the shores of that city. Make sure your mission is carried out this time, or, I will be most displaced."_

"Understood, sir! I shall not fail you again!"

_"That is good to hear. Now, as an aside, I do happen to have some interesting news for you, my loyal and faithful minion; according my sources, Kiritsugu Emiya is in Fuyuki City."_

That was something Stuart had not been expecting to hear. Despite himself, one of his eyebrows rose in surprise. "So, that little cockroach is still alive? He managed to survive Shigura City's… cleansing?"

_"Yes, he most certainly did. It would seem that he is currently participating in that city's little bloodsport. As such, I am sure that you know what to do once you find him. I will not tolerate a repetition of your failure, Mr. Strezenov, which is exactly what the Shigura mission has now turned out to be, thanks to his survival. No witnesses, and no survivors, remember?"_

Stuart swallowed. "I understand perfectly, Mr. C. I shall be sure to rectify my mistake the first chance that I get."

"_Good. Finish the job you started in Shigura, or it will be your head decorating my mantle, for there will be no third chance. Do. Not. Fail. Me."_

The line then disconnected.

Stuart turned off the phone promptly at that, and, when no one was looking, wiped a bit of sweat off his brow.

He then straightened himself up, and then began to bark out orders.

* * *

_The Continental_

Izanami looked over at the Lobby, and she looked at the pocket watch that he often carried on her person. In all the millennia, she had to admit that

Despite herself, she still held out a bit of hope. After, all, though she was loathed to admit it, she owed that much to Wednesday, after what he had done for her and the others.

She then picked up the desk phone and dialed the number on the rotary.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three…

Finally, it was answered.

"Yes, it is I... I know... Wednesday is dead... prepare for the next phase of the plan."

* * *

**A/N: Sorry about how long each chapter of this is taking. My muse is just not s receptive as it used to be, plus, ya know, real life. **

**So, Flauros, Wednesday, Glen, Martha, Aoi, Foreigner, Ryuunosuke, and Caster are dead. The Sleeping city has been destroyed, Magni smashed CTHULU in the face with a hammer, and Fuyuki has been saved. But poor Waver, what he has just been through! What is going to happen next, I wonder.**

**Hope none of you is finding Assassin too annoying, and that you still want to guess as to who/ what he is.**

**So, anyway, read, review, enjoy, and, of course…._Believe. _**

* * *

Rider: Magni

Master: Waver Velvet

**STATS**

STR EX

END A++

AGI B

MAN EX

LCK B

**Class Skills**

Riding: A++ Due to his nature as a god and a giant, as well as inheriting the aspects of his father, Magni is able to ride anything, like lightning bolts. Dragons are exempt, though.

Magic Resistance: A+ Modern Magi cannot touch him.

Berserk: EX. Never retreat, never surrender, and never take a conscious step back. Always keep moving forward, ready to kill and fight until death, and even after. Once Thor's Divine core is destroyed, this skill will be replaced with Pure Mad Enhancement.

**Personal Skills**

Divinity: A+ (E). As the son of a god and a giant, Magni should have the highest divinity possible. However, after Ragnarok, his divinity steadily decreased. But, as long as Thor's divine core within him remains intact, his divinity is A+ ranked.

Resemblance of the Father: -

Until his true name is revealed, even if he uses Mjolnir, Magni's true name will be registered as Thor. This skill is also from the fact that he is not a well-known figure in Norse sagas.

Monstrous Strength A++ Due to his nature, it is said that Magni was even stronger than his father.

Double Summon: A Magni qualifies as both Rider and Berserker, due to inheriting Thor's Divine Core. Once it is destroyed, he will revert to a pure Berserker class.

Twilight Survivor: EX Due to surviving the very end of the Gods and the world itself, Magni will continue fighting until the very end. A combination of Battle continuation, Poison resistance, and Independent action.

Thunder: A

Natural Body: A

**Noble Phantasms**

Tanngrisnirand Tanngnjóstr A+ The chariot goats of Thor, which Magni inherited through Thor's divine core.

Gulfaxi: A+. The horse of Magni.

Megingjord: A+

Mjolnir: A++ The legendary hammer of his father Thor, which Magni is said to have inherited after surviving Ragnarok.

Mjolnir Ragnarok: EX

* * *

Caster: Mephistopholes

Master: Ryuunosuke Uryuu

**STATS**

STR: D

END: C

AGI: B

MAN: A

LCK: B

N.P. B

**Class Skills**

Item Construction: B

Territory Creation: C+

**Personal Skills**

Witchcraft: A

Innocent Monster: B

Clown's Laughter: A+

**Noble Phantasm**

Ticking Bomb: A+


	7. Chapter 7

Fate Ragnarök Chapter Seven: Memories of hell, and the calm before the storm

Their first, and earliest memory had been of a stone ceiling, after slowly waking up, and then of someone calling their name, Arthur…. Arthur.

Arthur. Her name, since birth. Though Artoria was also sufficient.

Ever since he was little, Arthur had lived in this stone castle, living with Sir Ector, his wife, and his son, Kay.

Kay was a good sort, rough and honest, and kind when it mattered, even when acting as Arthur's knight, making him pull along Kay's horse and fulfill the knight's various chores. Once, when Artoria had gotten sick, Kay had stayed by her side all day and night and had even carved for him a small wooden hound, so as to comfort Arthur in their dreams, until he got better. Old Sir Ector always treated Arthur like his own child, be it son or daughter.

Arthur had never really bothered with genders, even as a youngling. It still tended caused Ector and Kay no end of confusion, with Arthur wearing either trousers or a skirt and gown without a second thought, though Arthur knew that Ector and Kay did their best to understand…. Arthur never understood why. It was simple. Sometimes, he was Arthur, and sometimes, she was Artoria.

For some reason, it never ceased to endlessly amuse the strange man called Merlin, who would visit the castle every so often, and teach Artoria all sorts of things. Though, despite himself, Arthur looked forward to the visits.

Yet, despite the wramth and security of the castle, the squire never once truly felt at home in it. It was not really a place to live, more a place to rest every now and then.

Now, for Arthur, her true home were the forests, hunting and riding and exploring. Whenever they were not being knight and squire, Kay would join in, joining in Arthur's explorations and ranging's.

This night, they had traveled further than before into the woods. Kay, no doubt, had been thinking of only snagging a few coneys, or even just a single steer for the supper, but Arthur, as ever, felt that need to keep going further and further in.

Overhead, the moon was full, and bright, like the eye of a hunting owl.

Then, they had heard a strange noise, coming from deeper within. With some hesitation on Kay's part, they ventured further in, until they came to a small clearing, inhabited by a single, strange figure.

Wary, Arthur drew back on her bow, while Kay readied his boar spear.

The being seemed made of fur, scales, feathers, quills, claws, and horns. It also seemed to be garbed in hunting leathers, and one hand held a massive spear.

They could not see its face, save for a glint of fangs, and one piercing green eye.

It raised its head from the corpse, blood staining its mouth, and it then… sniffed at the air. _I can smell you, little watchers_, it said, in a strange language that seemed both more and less than words. _Stop hiding and come into the moonlight._

Common sense dictated that Arthur and Kay leave right then and there, running fast and far away as quickly as possible…. That was what common sense dictated. However, Arthur and Kay stood entranced. Indeed, something about the figure seemed to call out to their very souls.

Arthur and Kay looked at the figure for a long moment, and the figure looked back at the two hunters.

Then, the figure held out its free hand, and beckoned._ Come closer, little children_, the being said._ Do not be frightened._

Oddly enough, Arthur and Kay felt no fear in that moment. Only curiosity, as they reached for the Horned being's clawed hand….

When Arthur and Kay awoke the next morning, they were in their beds, and the sun was bright in the sky.

On their palms was a strange symbol, of a hunting spear, but only they seemed to be able to see it.

Though Arthur and Kay never spoke of the strange event, it would not be the last time either would encounter the figure, be in in the forest, or dreams.

When Merlin next came to visit, the wizard had examined Arthur for a long moment after somehow seeing the symbol on hers and Kay's palms. All the magus of Flowers had then done was smile enigmatically, though there had been an annoyed look in his eyes. He had then departed, muttering something about "interfering, one-eyed hunters."

When they would encounter the figure again, little by little, new memories would come to them; of wild rides through the forests, of hunts most fantastic, and great revelries, though these memories were little more than dream-like hazes.

They also felt themselves getting stronger, especially Kay when it came to swimming. Sometimes, it seemed as if he were becoming part fish. Artoria, on the other hand, still preferred to keep to the forests, though he felt stronger, faster, and… perhaps a bit detached.

Still, life carried on, and Arthur and Kay continued to grow as knight and squire. At least until the Tourney.

The tourney was where it all would change forever. Officially, it was to celebrate the dawning of the New Years. Being only a mere squire, Arthur was not allowed to attend the tourney proper, of course. A part of Artoria hoped that Kay would win, though, privately, he thought that Kay would be a bit bad at being king.

With nothing of any real import to do, Arthur felt a bit of wanderlust calling in her veins once again. So, he went exploring. He wandered about, until he found it.

A sword, stabbed into a flat stone, at the top of the hill

Artoria approached the sword, his eyes transfixed. It was free of any run, ivy, or growth shined with a great and inner radiance. Arthur could even make out the lettering etched into the hilt; _whoever so pulleth out this sword, if they be worthy, shall be crowned King of all England. _

Artoria recognized this sword in the stone, and he felt it call out. Almost on instinct, she knew what to do.

Slowly, her hand reached out, towards the handle...

"If you should take up that sword, you will be forever changed, even more so than when you encountered that roving hunter in the forest." It was Merlin, as if he had just appeared out of nowhere.

His hand still outstretched, Arthur looked at the robed Wizard. "If you take up that sword, you will never truly again be human. You will become… something else," the Wizard said. "Are you prepared to shoulder such a burden, that of being the king?"

Arthur had no hesitation. "It is the nature of creatures and kings to evolve, so as to better rule and protect and kill and nurture. The burden will be of no matter to me. I shall accept it."

There were no more words that Arthur felt needed to say in that moment, as her hand curled around the sword's handle…

* * *

_1994_

Kiritsugu woke up with a gasp. He was in one of the rooms of the Einzbern mansion.

How had he gotten here? Oh, wait, that was right. He had saved that Velvet boy.

He then looked down. Shit, the illusion was gone. He had to re-erect it before…

"You collapsed the moment that you entered."

No.

Slowly, Kiritsugu looked up to see Iri standing in the doorway to the room.

She looked him over with a kind gaze. "This is what you have been hiding all this time, Kiri?"

"Don't…. don't look at me, Iri."

She could see him; see all his scars, and the monster that he truly was. Now, she would recoil in terror, and…

To his surprise, she cupped his face in her hand. He looked at her, with his mismatched eyes. "You're… you're not afraid of me?"

"Why would I be afraid of you, Kiri?" She then kissed him, on his scarred mouth.

Despite himself, his eyes started feeling wet.

She looked him straight in his eyes. "You are my husband, and a good man, despite what you may believe about yourself. All you do, you do for the good of this world. Remember that."

She then stood up. "I should go check on our new guest, as well as see how Sakura is doing. The sheathe should have started healing her by now..."

Right, Waver Velvet. With a sigh, Kiritsugu went into the desk in the room, and withdrew a long piece of rune-inscribed parchment, and a pen.

* * *

It hurt to open his eyes, and yet, Waver felt he had to, or else he would go mad. So, he opened his eyes.

His legs felt stiff. Had he slept on them wro-

Wait.

Gingerly, he reached forward, past his knee… there was nothing. Wh-what happened to his legs!?

Before he could start screaming (even though his throat was very dry) a voice interrupted his thoughts. "Your legs had to be amputated. Not even magecraft could save them. I'm sorry."

It was the woman from the docks, form the night of the first battle. She gave him a kind smile. "But it's going to be alright now."

As he struggled to sit up, the woman gently but firmly made him lay back down. "Don't. Your body is still healing. You can't be up and about just yet. Please, there is no need to worry. It will be alright."

"W-where's Rider?"

"He's outside. I'm afraid that there are not many rooms in this mansion that he can fit into."

She smiled again. "You and your Servant are safe here. I promise. Now, try to rest."

After that, she left him, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Then, ten minutes later, the specter of Death itself entered Waver's room. To his petty pride, Waver did not scream, though only because he was currently to scared to speak, or scream.

The man looked at him, and then spoke. "My name is Kiritsugu Emiya. I am sure that you know who I am, Waver Velvet."

Oh yes, he most definitely knew who Kiritsugu Emiya was! Even Waver Velvet had heard of the Magus Killer, as he foolishly tried to back away while still in his bed. "Please stop doing that, Waver Velvet. You're still weak, and you will tear the stiches on your side."

"Wh-why am I here?"

"You're here because I brought you here. I found you half dead on the ground after the events with Caster…"

"Wh-what do you want from me?"

The mass-murderer walked forward until he was right next to Waver's bed. "Against my better judgment, I decided to spare your life. However, this will not be a free gift."

He set on Waver's lap a long piece of parchment paper, along with a pen. "This is a geis contract, freshly drawn up. It states that there will be no enmity between us, and that we will form an alliance until we are the only two masters left in the War.

"Don't worry, as it states that we will not backstab the other, or kill the other's Servant, again, until we are the only ones left. All that is left is for you to sign it."

Waver looked at the geis contract, and then at the Magus Killer, waiting expectantly.

Funny, the man said he had a choice, but, right now, with no legs, and stuck in a house with a man who probably had more blood on his hands then everyone in the city combined?

Yeah, Waver felt that he had as much choice in the matter as the sun did in rising and setting each day.

With a sigh, Waver reached for the pen…

* * *

It was only five o'clock in the morning, and already, Tokiomi was nursing his second glass of red.

Cornelius sat with him. Nigel was busy brewing something in the workshop, and Twice was making sure that Rin was all right.

None of them had slept much at all, especially after the events of the previous night. Meanwhile, Archer was elsewhere, and Saber was leaning against the wall in silence. Father Risei would be arriving soon.

Cornelius was then the first to speak. "You look like shit, Tokiomi. So, what is the plan?"

Instead of answering, Tokiomi took another sip. He then looked at Cornelius. "Do you ever wonder, Cornelius?"

"Wonder about what?"

"Wonder where everything changed for us, where everything started going downhill?"

The blond man smirked derisively. "That's easy. Aylesbury, during the Autmun Equinox, 1970. That is where everything went to absolute shit."

"Indeed…. It is somewhat funny, but I still remember every last detail of that horrible, horrible night."

Nigel then spoke up. "Actually, that's not funny at all. We were stupid punks, we got in way over our heads, and it ended up costing us all most dearly."

"On, that, Nigel, we can actually agree," Tokiomi said. Soon, he would be sending Rin out of the City to a country cottage, where she would be safe until he returned for her, and once the Magus Killer was dead.

At that, they all went silent for a bit, before Tokiomi then stood up, after draining his glass in one go. "Well, now its time for us to begin…."

"Ah, yes, about that…." Cornelius interjected. "I feel that we should make a small alteration to our plan."

"Oh? What would that be?"

The man with the red hat smiled, as he took another sip at his own glass. "Nigel, Twice, and I have not been totally idle over the past twenty years. We have made just the most interesting of friends, people who were able to help us manage our… unique condition."

He then stood up as well. "In fact, they should be arriving just about…."

A knock on the front door resounded through the house. Nigel looked up and leveled a glare at Cornelius. "You didn't. You actually contacted him?"

Cornelius chuckled. "I did. You should answer the door, Tokiomi. You will find what our friend has to say to be of great interest…."

* * *

After he returned to his room, Kiritsugu sighed. Not for the first time, he wondered how and why Iri could love him, the monster that he was.

Still, knowing her, she would be going on another shopping trip once the sun came up. With him basically having the house to himself when the happen, he figured that the best thing to do would be to plan his and Lancer's next move…

The room's antique phone then began to ring.

Odd and worrying. No one save for the Einzberns knew the number to the phones in this house.

After it rang a second time, Kiritsugu's curiosity got the better of him, and picked up the receiver. A moment later, he wished that he had not.

_"Hello, Kiritsugu. How have you been? How is the War going?"_

Kiritsugu nearly dropped the phone in surprise. He had hoped never to hear this voice again, and, indeed, had not in over nine years. "How did you even get this number? Also, what the hell do you want, demon?"

_"Now, now, there is no need to be some impolite, my good employee. I have my ways when it comes to contacting those who have served me in the past. As for why, well, can a superior not check in on those that work under him, from time to time?"_

"I have not 'worked' for you in years."

_"Indeed. Think of it as having had paternal leave, being able to spend time with that cute little daughter of yours. You have done a lot of good work for me, over the years, so I had simply decided that you deserved some time off. By the way, impressive work, catching the eye of a family as prestigious as the Einzberns."_

"Your praise and magnanimity truly touch my heart." If the Magus Killer's words had been any more acidic, then there would have been sizzling and smoking holes in the floor by his feet.

The voice chuckled. _"That gladdens me, truly. But I am afraid that this is not really a simple social call. I need you to do a job."_

"In case you are unaware, I am bit busy at the moment."

_"Yes, yes, with that Holy Grail War of yours. Impressive stuff, I will admit, summoning dead heroes so as to murder each other over a glorified wishing cup."_

_"Don't forget, Kiritsugu, that you still awe me a great amount of debt. Had it not been for me, you would not have survived Shigura City. Without me, you would be little more than a torso with a metal arm. Plus, did I not open your mind and sight to countless wonders beyond your imagination?"_

"Am I supposed to thank you for any of that?"

_"Yes, but that is beside the point."_

The magus killer sighed again. "Fine. What is this "job?" that you have?"

_'Well, as luck would have it, it happens to be located right here, in Fuyuki city."_

"You're here?"

_"Indeed, I'm staying with some friends, but let's keep on track, shall we? This is not about me, after all. As I was saying, the job is here, in Fuyuki. Pray tell, do you remember the F.S. Corporation?"_

Kiritsugu gripped the phone so tightly that it almost began to crack.

_"Heh heh, heh, I can see that I now have your attention. That is good."_

As Kiritsugu listened to the little demon, a small pain began to radiate in the back of his skull, and his limbs, his original limbs, were starting to hurt.

_…It's nothing personal, just business….. _

Somehow, the little demon knew. _"It's getting worse, isn't it, even with all the help that I have provided to you, over the years. Have you been having those naughty and strange thoughts again, my little magus killer? Having you been having trouble sleeping again? Actually, no need to answer that, so just listen. My friends and I have noticed that the F.S. have been slowly funneling people and things into the city and have been for quite a few years. As such, they and I would very much like it if you were to investigate what it is that they are up to. Not to worry though, as you will have until tonight to prepare, as per the rules of the War. Oh, and, if you can, please try not to die, or disappear on me again. Excellent employees like you are so hard to come by. So, good luck, and prepare to receive the coordinates from your arm in due time"_

Click, and then a dial tone.

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, one recommended to him by a sadistic doll-maker. As he pulled them out from the pack that the homunculi servants had brought from the Continental, he paused for a moment, and saw in his pack a familiar fisherman's knife, with a mother-of-pearl handle.

As smoke filled the air from his cancer stick, memories began to swarm through his mind, and he closed his eyes….

* * *

_Alimango Island, 1951_

He opened his eyes and saw a Pacific sky. Beneath his feet, he felt the golden sand against the bottom of his feet.

For as long as he could remember, Kiritsugu and his father had lived on this island. It was paradise.

The happy exclamations of his friends drew his attention from that blue Pacific sky.

Johnny, Ken, and Annie, already floating in the warm waters of the beach. "Come on, Kiri!" "Jump, jump!" "You can do it!"

He approached the rock, from which they had jumped. He then turned to his right and saw a much higher rock. He looked at his friends again, and grinned.

He heard their admiring gasps of disbelief as he started to climb. This was going to be awesome!

Soon enough, he reached the top of the large outcrop. He looked at the sky again, and then the clear waters below.

Well, here goes nothing!

With a loud and mighty "YAHOO," Kiri leapt off the rock, and cannonballed into the water with a loud splash.

Later, as they were all lounging about, a new voice joined their commotion. With happy grins, Kiri and the others turned to greet the new and familiar arrival.

Shirley was only a few years older than Kiri. She had beautiful tanned skin, brown hair, and inquisitively amber eyes. She was very popular around the island, both with the adults and the other kids.

Kiri had fallen in love with her at first sight, though, to his shame, she never saw him as anything more that a little brother.

She waved him over to where she had parked her old truck. Right, it was time to go. Dad was expecting them. With a goodbye to his friends, Kiri dashed off towards Shirley.

They drove through the village, and up the mountain, towards the abandoned mansion where he and his dad lived, and where they had lived for as long as he could remember.

When he got out of the car, he saw his father waiting with a needle in hand.

Right. It was time for him to take his medicine. Without hesitation, Kiri walked over, and presented his arm.

"Ready?" his dad asked.

When Kiri nodded, his father exhaled, gently inserted the needle, and then pressed down on the plunger.

Kiri sometimes wondered why he had to take this medicine. He never felt sick before, as far as he could remember. But his father always knew best, so he never asked about it.

As his father finished, Kiri looked at the plants, more specifically at the newest one. "Wow, so another one, huh?"

His father nodded, a small, proud smile on his lips. "That's right. One hundred total successes. Each and every last one's time has been successfully altered, never growing, never changing, and never dying."

Dad's face than grew somber, as he seemed to whisper, "almost there, almost there…."

"Dad? Are you okay?"

His father's head shot up, and he seemed to put on a comforting grin. "Don't worry about it, Kiritsugu. Everything is fine."

After that, the three gathered together for a late lunch of fish and bread. During the meal, Shirley told Kiri and dad all about how she had just managed to replicate one of the flowers. Dad had actually seemed surprised about that, though happily so, saying how Shirley was 'truly a bright light in a darkened sea."

Kiri simply felt happy for her. She was super smart, after all.

Later, after helping to wash up, Kiri headed down to the beach, to help out Lady B with her fishing and seashells.

"You seem happy, little Cutter."

The old woman looked up from the fish that she was fileting, her skin weathered and browned by the sun and the sea, and her silver-white hair long and threaded with small shells and black stones. She was dressed in rough, ragged, and homespun clothing. Currently, she had a long white pipe clenched between her teeth as she worked. At her belt was sheathed a long fisherman's knife with a handle inlaid with abalone, and mother of pearl. It was the only expensive thing on her. Her most startling feature, however, was the mass of scars over her right eye-socket. On anyone else, it would have looked terrifying, but on her, it looked… nice. Even Kiri could tell that she must have been utterly beautiful in her younger years.

She could also be found sitting around, or lounging by the beach, though most often in the evenings and night. He did not really know her name. She always said to call her "Lady B." Though, maybe he just never asked. She was always nice to him, especially when he helped her fish. The first time they had met, she had shown him how to properly prepare fish, and make pretty things from seashells, and how to catch sea creatures. She had said that he was so good with a knife, and thus, she called him her little "Cutter."

Everyone always treated her kindly, and the old lady always seemed to have time to tell the children stories, legends and such, as the sun set, and around a big and warm bonfire. To Kiri, they were awesome. He especially liked the stories about Silungan Baltapa and Maui. They always sounded like super-heros of justice!

The old woman took a puff of her pipe as she put down her fileting knife and settled her shockingly clear and sea green left eye upon him. "So, has the beautiful Shirley finally accepted your overtures of romance?"

Kiri sighed. "Afraid not. She just laughed at me again. I think that she thinks that I'm just a dumb kid joking about. "

Lady B laughed, as she tousled his hair. "Ah, I would not worry too much about it, little Cutter. You are still young, and the sea is ever teeming with fish."

"I guess…"

She took another puff of her pipe as she then looked out toward the blue sea. "I remember being young and happy once, albeit barely. It seems like so long ago, when I danced on these very beaches as a young girl, with my brothers, sisters, husband, parents, and children. We were all so happy then."

She then chuckled, but it did not sound as happy as her usual laughter. "Strange how the years seem to pass so very quickly, and how our memories seem to fade and shift with time and experience, wouldn't you say?"

"I guess?"

She chuckled again. He didn't think that what he had said was funny.

The woman then gestured about with a weathered hand. "I have lived in this village for a very long time, little Cutter, longer than you or your father have been alive. I have seen countless generations be born, grow up, and even die. Hells, I was even here when that church over there was first erected. I was not sure about that priest coming here, having had some bad experiences with that foolish religion of his in the past, but, unlike most of his fellows, I will admit that he's not a bad sort."

She drifted off for a moment, her eye distant. Kiri wiped his hand clean, and gently touched her on her shoulder. "Lady B? Are you alright?"

She looked at him again and gave him another pat on his head. "Not really, little Cutter, but it is nothing that I have not felt before. It is just the way the world works, it seems."

She then proceeded to look him square in his eyes, making him feel a little uncomfortable. "I want you to remember this, little Cutter; Things always change, and those who refuse to accept that simple truth, well they are nothing but fools and imbeciles. All we can do is remember what once was, as we move forward."

As she said that, she looked… sad, a shining tear glistening in the corner of her eye. Then, she smiled again at Kiri, and waved him away with a swift smack on his bottom, earning her a little yelp from him. "Well, best not to keep you, little one. Get going, don't want your brainy father worrying about you now, can we? I'll see you later tonight with the others for another story. Now, then, shoo, shoo!"

* * *

Like many days on an island, the week seemed to pass in slow and warm segments. Every day felt pretty much the same; wake up, play with friends, take his medicne, help Lady B with her fish and shells, and then listen to one of her stories with the others in the evening.

Kiri loved Alimango Island. It was paradise, and he wanted it to last forever.

But Paradise is always destined to burn down in flames.

* * *

_He had hoped that it would last forever, those warm, happy, and sunny days…._

_But nothing lasted forever. Looking back, Kiritsugu knew that there had been nothing unusual about that damned day…_

* * *

The day had started off as normal, though he had overheard his father mumbling to himself about misplacing a bottle or something from his cabinet. Still, his father had assured him that there was nothing to worry about, and so Kiri had gone about his day as normal….

Kiri knew that he was late, but, after helping her, Lady B had actually rewarded him with a story, and one that he had never heard before, about a tricky fox who did a lot a strange and funny and mean things, and never apologized for any of it.

He knew he was late.

As he went through the village, he suddenly felt the need to see Shirley. She had been busy the past few days, and so he had not seen much of her at all.

Of course, he wasn't worried, he just wanted to see how she had been, and what she had been up to the past few days.

But, as for the past few days, she was not at any of her usual spots, and no one knew where she was.

Finally, Kiri went to her house.

He knocked on the door and found it to be unlocked. Hesitantly, he entered. The inside looked as if it had not been cleaned in days.

What was going on?

Then, he heard a strange noise. It was coming from the back yard, where Shirley kept a few chickens.

At the sound of his approach, the hunched figure raised its head, and slowly turned around. Kiri's eyes widened in horror.

"Sh-Shirley?"

Her eyes were twin balls of pure red, red to match the blood around her mouth. For a long minute, all she did was pant, like a hungry animal. Then, she spoke, slowly, as if she was forgetting how to. "K… K… Kiri?"

He took a step forward, and all that seemed to do was make her scream and scramble back in total fright, like a beaten and cornered dog. She kept her arms in front of her face, as she began to alternatively sob and speak. "I… I just wanted to… to be of use…. H-help with his research! I should have listened! Should have listened! I-i-it didn't work!"

She then began to slam her head into the wires of the chicken coop, over and over and over again, still screaming. As she did, the small dagger that she always wore around her nck came loose and clattered in front of Kiri's feet.

"Kill me."

Those two words cut through Kiritsugu's soul like a sword through soft clay.

"Use that," she sobbed. "Use that and kill me. Please! I don't want to hurt anyone, but if you don't kill me with that knife, I won't be able to control myself!"

No, this couldn't be real! This was just a bad dream, and any moment, Kiri was going to wake up and everything would be fine. "I… I can't."

"DO IT!" Shirley screamed, spittle and blood flying form her mouth. "Please! Kill me! Kill me before its too late!"

But, he couldn't. "J-just stay there! I'll get Father Simon."

So, he ran for help, ignoring Shirley's screams of anguish.

By the time he had gotten Father Simon, she was already gone. The priest had been very terrified at what Kiri had told him and had ushered him into the church. After making a few hushed phone calls, Father Simon had gone back outside.

Kiri did not know what to do.

Then, suddenly, through the air came the sound of screams, and of people dying and flesh being torn off of bone!

A part of Kiri then felt the need to scramble out the window. A moment later, after he did so, the church burst into flames!

With the heat of the church on his back, Kiri looked at the scene before him in horror; everyone was dying! Some looked like Shirley, and they were attacking the other villagers like wild animals, ripping into them with claws and teeth. Then, there were strange people in suits and robes and crosses, shooting and stabbing and setting things on fire!

What was happening!?

Then, the sound of shuffling made Kiri turn around.

It was… Father Simon? But, he looked like the others!

Slowly, the thing wearing the priest's face began to amble towards Kiri. Kiri tried to run, but he was too scared. He could hear more behind him. He was surrounded.

Was he going to die?

Through the flames leapt someone, and they were accompanied by the sound of gunshots.

It was a tall woman, with silver hair, and a black long coat. In her hands was a shotgun, like in the comic books. As swift as the wind, she mowed down all the monsters with several burst of her shotgun, and then a handgun.

Kiri was entranced.

Then, before the silver haired woman could glance in his direction, Kiri felt a strong hand pull him to the side, making him run as he was pulled along, until they were deep in the forest. Whoever it was, they then hugged him tight, with whispered words for him to keep quiet.

The sound of gunshots and footsteps made it clear that the woman with silver hair was now gone. Then, the one who had grabbed him released Kiri from the hug, though their grip on his arm remained.

It was Lady B. She was covered in ash and blood and seemed not to be one of the ghouls.

They had to go, and he tried to pull at her shawl. "Lady B! Come on! We have to go!"

As the flames lit all around the remnants of the village, the old woman looked at Kiri with sadness. "Go where, little Cutter? Where can I go? When this village is nothing but ash and corpses so too will I be gone, but only after a bit more lingering. That is all I have done these days… linger, ever since the people began to slowly forget me, in favor of the Christian God. One by one, I watched as my family slipped and faded away, until only I was left, and even then, I too started to wither away."

Her grip on his arm was becoming surprisingly strong. But, why was she telling him this? Didn't she see what was happening? Her grip tightened on his arm, until it hurt. "I want you to promise me, little Cutter. Promise me that you will never forget what has happened here. Promise me that you will never forget or forgive who was responsible for this tragedy. Promise me that, no matter what, you will always survive and remember this island, its people, and me."

All he could do was just nod, as the screams rose in pitch. "I… I promise."

Of course, what happened next would be one of the things that would forever etch itself into his memory.

Lady B then drew her long knife and raised it up… to her own throat. "I dedicate this sacrifice… to you, little Cutter."

All he could do was watch with shock as, with one swift motion, Lady B drew the sharp edge of that knife across her throat, leaving behind a swiftly expanding line of red spray that covered Kiri's shocked face.

For some reason, he did not scream as she gurgled and died. Indeed, he just felt sad, like something great and unique had just passed from the world.

Without another thought, he grabbed at the dagger in Lady B's now limp hand and started to run. He had to get to his father. He would know what to do! He always did!

He ran through the screams and the fire and all the death. Somehow, he never once dropped Lady B's knife.

* * *

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Kiri managed to get to the house. The bounded fields let him pass without any bad stuff happening to him.

Dad was busy shoving a bunch of things into suitcases.

"Dad?"

When he turned around, Kiritsugu saw a strange look on his father's face; a look of such sorrow that it made Kiri's own heart fill with sadness. Then, his eyes widened in… horror?

"No," he heard his dad whispered. "Not now…"

Suddenly, there was a flash of bright light….. and a scream.

When he came to, his father was…. Dead, savaged, and cut apart to pieces. The knife in Kiri's hand was covered in blood.

What had just happened? Why was his back so sore? Why did his head hurt so much? He looked down. There was a syringe stabbed into his arm.

When had he taken his medicine?

For a long moment, all he could do was just look at his dad's dead body.

He did not scream, or weep, and he did not know why. All he could do was just sit there and look at his father's dead body.

Outside, the screams finally died down.

Then, the woman with silver hair then came in. At the scene before her, she cocked her head, and then looked at him.

"Interesting…"

* * *

_The Atlantic, 1965_

He did not know how long he knelt there, staring at the destroyed wreckage of the airliner.

He had killed her. He had killed Natalia.

Natalia, who had taken him under her wing, like a mother, after Shigura city, and had taught him how to kill and survive.

Natalia, who had had no sense of personal space, and but never actually did anything untoward, aside from a few blue comments.

Natalia, who had helped him learn how to use the Emiya family crest in its entirety, which had somehow transplanted itself upon his back.

Natalia, under whose tutelage he managed to craft his mystic code, the Thompson contender, along with the thirty-six bullets crafted from his lower two ribs.

Natalia, who had pulled him out alive, along with his severed left arm (the bones of which were made into more Origin Bullets), from the horror that was Present Mountain, and had not batted an eye when he had claimed Zeptar's crest for himself, adding it to his own, a peculiar talent that he had developed after…. After Alimango…

He had to do it. There had been no other choice. They could not risk the bees getting out. He had had no choice!

Kiritsugu had had no other choice.

_You had no choice._

_You had a choice!_

_What fun, those flames were, as all those people exploded!_

_Murderer! _

_Someone else would have gotten it wrong._

_Few… many!_

"I'm sorry. Shirley! I did it this time! I saved everyone, Shirley! I saved them!"

Suddenly, through his tears, he happened to look at his watch. Oh… it was time for his medicine. With tears still streaming down his face, he took out the ready syringe from his coat….

* * *

_Vietnam, 1969_

Like many people, Stevie had regrets. Regrets were what made people... people.

He regretted not having picked chocolate ice cream in the parlor when he was six; he regretted never having the courage to ask Cindy Berkowitz to Cony Island, skin color be damned.

Mostly, he regretted having ever fucking enlisted in the army, to go serve in Vietnam. That had been three years ago. Since then, it had been three years of bugs, heat, terrible food, little sleep, and miles upon miles of fucking jungle! Then, there was today. They had been on patrol, and had been swiftly ambushed and surrounded by a bunch of Charlie motherfuckers. So, here he was, on his knees, with the barrel of a gun pointed right between his eyes.

Now, he was going to die, in a fucking jungle, far from the Boroughs.

So, yes, Stevie had a great deal of regrets.

Oh well, if he was going to die here, then at the very least, he was not going to die like a fucking pussy, with his eyes closed or some sappy shit. Nope, he was going to die with his eyes open. He then looked straight at the Viet-Cong asshole holding the gun to his head, and spat on the ground. "Just get it over with, mother-fucker."

Despite neither speaking the same language, Stevie felt like the Charlie understood him. The man's finger slowly began to close around the trigger.

Bullets rang out, and yet, for some reason, he was still alive? Who was shooting? Did another patrol stumble upon the execution?

The Viet-Cong were getting mowed down, and no one seemed to know where the shots were coming from.

Then, a blur burst out from the trees, and, one-by-one, the remaining Charlies all died via a slit throat.

Then, Stevie managed to get a good look at the person who had just rescued him. It was some weird Japanese man, dressed in black combat fatigues, and strange armor, like something out of a comic book. At the moment, he was busy wiping blood off the blade of a long, strange looking knife with a mother-of-pearl handle. He then watched as the man proceeded to jab a syringe into his neck for a moment, for some reason.

"Who are you?" Stevie finally asked, once the man had finished doing whatever it was that he was doing.

The Jap looked at him for a moment with tired black eyes, and then held out a gloved left hand, the material as black as the rest of his apparel and weapons, save for the long knife which was no sheathed at his belt. "My name is Kiritsugu Emiya," he said in perfect, unaccented English. "But, if you prefer, you can call me Mr. Pale..."

* * *

_After Natalia's death, Kiritsugu had found himself wandering from war-zone to war-zone all across the world. Perhaps he had just wanted to die, or perhaps he wanted to balance the karmic scales, kill the few to save the many, or something. _

_To this day, he was still not sure. _

_Then, a strange thing started to happen. One by one, he started attracting a small group of like-minded individuals, broken people like him, who still had a desire to make the world a better place. _

_The first had been Maiya, whom he had rescued from a war-torn country whose name he no longer remembered. _

_Then, Speaker Tom, a UN army ranger of Navajo descent, who had a bit of talent in speaking to the dead._

_Third had been Johann Skut, an Ace Scandinavian pilot, and a prodigy with wind magecraft._

_In Afghanistan, they found their second scout, Jackie Peabody, a small Irish woman with a quick draw and fierce temper, as well as a worrying predilection for pyrotechnics._

_In Africa, a former executor of the Burial Agency, of all people, named Pietro Anderson, joined them. He was an absolute giant, who never hesitated to impale a foe with a black key, or speak a solemn pray for the innocent dear with tears streaming down his face. _

_Their final member had been Stevie Mets, an American soldier now AWOL from Vietnam. _

_Over the years, they gained a sort of reputation, among both the mundane and the magecraft worlds, as a group able to do the possible, and Mercenaries able to carry out the most impossible of tasks with little to no trouble._

_For a while, Kiri had though that he had finally found a new family. _

_Sometimes, he wished that he had never met any of them. Then, they would probably all still be alive. He also wished that they had not accepted the Shigura mission... _

* * *

_Airspace over Shigura Island, 1974_

"Did the magi say what to expect once we land on the island, Pale?"

Kiritsugu looked up from his rifle at Speaker's question. He then shrugged. "Not sure. But we can't get too cocky. All we have to do is land, find the target, extract it, and then get out by any means possible. We are then to rendezvous with Lady Lorelei, and hand over the asset. That's it."

Skut then spoke up. "Strap in everyone, we are approaching the island now. Will be landing soon.

He then switched on the jet's radio. "Flight control, this is Condor Blue, requesting permission to land. Do you copy?"

There was only static. "Flight Control, this Condor Blue. Do you copy, over?"

He then motioned over to Kiritsugu. "This is strange. There is no reply-"

Before he could say anything more, a loud explosion suddenly rocked the plane, and they started to plummet

"Mayday, mayday! This is Condor Blue! We have been hit, and we are going down! I repeat we are going down! Mayday, mayday! EVERYBODY! BRACE FOR IMPACT!"

* * *

They crashed on a nearby beach.

Somehow, Kiritsugu and the others managed to remain conscious.

Then, strange soldiers had arrived, and opened fire, just as Kiri and the others had gotten to their feet. Skut and Speaker were dead within minutes.

But, Kiritsugu and the others managed to escape into the forest beyond the beach.

After a long knight, they found themselves at a wire gate. Before the collapsed at the entrance, they were dragged in...

When Kiri and the others came too, they found themselves on hospital cots, their wounds all bandaged up. A woman of solidly middle years was sitting next to him.

"It is alright, you are all safe now," the woman said...

* * *

They had been unconscious for two days, and the woman later explained all that she knew, and it had left Kiritsugu and the others speechless.

A month ago, one of the coastal cities had gone silent. When the police were sent to investigate, they were attacked by a small horde of madmen, all of whom were acting as if they were possessed. What ever was wrong with them, it seemed to be infectious, and a swiftly spreading one at that.

At first, everyone tired to escape via plane or boat, but each and every vehicle was shot or sunk, thanks to the Soldiers, all of whom was led by a man named Stuart Streznov. The worst he had done so far had been the massacre of an entire safe zone that had been free of the strange infection. To make matters worse, The woman had been one of the few survivors.

The woman, a foreigner named Siobhan then told them a truly horrible fact;

"Outside, it has been only a month, but, on this island, Time has started to flow differently. It has already been one year. No doubt, the murderer Stuart and those he is working for are responsible. Before all this madness, the F.S. Corporation set up strange machines all over the Island. They are heavily guarded."

Kiri and the others realized that there was little they could do, save to help these people survive.

No matter what, they would survive...

* * *

_2 months later (2 years on Shigura island)_

It had been a trap. There had been a traitor in the compound, someone who had given a false distress signal in the next city, along with supplies... and a possible way to escape the island.

It had sounded too good to be true, but, after two long years of surviving against Agonist attacks, and fighitng agaisnt Stuart Streznov and his seemingly endless supplies of faceless soldiers, everyone had been desperate for some hope.

The Kiritsugu who had survived Alimango island, and the one who had shot down Natalia, would have argued that it had not been worth the risk, but, over the past two years of survival and hell, he had felt himself slipping away from that mindset, and leaping at the chance for hope, for tomorrow.

Perhaps... perhaps saving people did not always require having to sacrifice someone else.

Though, of course, people still died, but there did not always have to be a choice, right?

How wrong he had been. How foolish and naive.

It had been an ambush, and Kiri had been knocked unconscious.

When he came to, they were at an airfield by the coast, full of transportation helicopters, and he was firmly restrained by two massive soldiers. They forced him to watch as, one by one, his teammates were executed.

All Kiritsugu could do was scream in sorrow and rage as the rest of the group, his group, his _family_, was executed, one after the other.

After Peabody, the last, slumped to the ground, a hole in her forehead and tears still streaming down her face, Stuart Streznov looked at the restrained Kiritsugu, and then walked toward him, his boots clacking against the gravel, and his many knives lightly rattling. He gave the Magus Killer a genial smile.

Then, he let loose a hard haymaker against Kiritsugu's face, making the Magus Killer spit out blood and saliva. It was soon followed by another, and then a third, fourth, and on.

For a good few minutes, the only real sound that could be heard was that of Streznov's fists impacting against Kiritusugu's face and flesh.

_Thud._

_Thud._

_Thud._

_Thud._

_Thud!_

_etc..._

Stuart Streznov delivered one final punch to Kiritsugu's face, which now felt like one massive, bloody bruise. His eye had even ruptured and popped out of his socket, leaving him half blind.

Streznov then cracked his knuckles, as his men released the magus killer to fall boneless to the ground with a pained groan, which was followed by a light and swift kick to the ribs by Streznov. "You and your little band of intrepid survivors had been making things very embarrassing for the people for whom I work. If all of you had just had the good grace to stop struggling, and _die _two years ago within the bubble, along with the rest of the inhabitants of this stupid little island, then a lot of this unpleasantness could have been avoided. We could have wiped this island off the map months ago and then be on our merry way, back to brighter and better things. Still, credit is where credit is due…. Surviving for this long within the time bubble, and with the limited supplies that you had, is truly nothing short of impressive. Well done, Kiritsugu Emiya. Well done."

He then crouched by Kiristugu, lifted up his head by a fistful of his bloody hair, eliciting a groan. Stuart looked at him for a moment, spat on his face, and into his partially empty eye-socket and then dropped him back down. With a chuckle, Stuart stood up, watching as the Magus killer feebly started to move.

"Still, making it this far deserves a reward. As such …"

Without another word, the man then proceeded to shoot Kiritsugu in the back of the knees and his right shoulder with a swiftly drawn pistol.

Kiritsugu screamed, though he was not sure whether it was from the pain, or the fact that he had failed.

"Enjoy your reward, Magus Killer."

* * *

As the pain from his brutalized limbs radiated through his body along with all the bruises on his face and chest, it was all Kiritsugu could do to remain conscious. As he twitched and writhed on the ground in total agony, he watched as the soldiers then proceeded to set a large metal cylinder in front of him. Then, they placed what seemed to be wireless, two-way transponder radio in front of him, along with two smaller cylinders, one with a red button, and the other with a blue button.

The soldiers then all gathered up into their helicopters and took off.

He was not sure how long he laid there, before the radio began to sound off. Slowly, he dragged himself forward, and picked up the earpiece. After a bit of static, Streznov's voice crackled through.

_"Hello, Kiritsugu Emiya. I see that you have survived your little gift, since you just answered. As such, you have been given one more reward; a choice. Now, I have good news and bad news. Good news, we actually evacuated the rest of your survivors before we blew up your little haven. They are currently holed up in a safe and reinforced building. Plus, as a bit of more good news, that doctor friend of yours? He actually told me that he has finally developed a cure! So, we just had to take all his research. They are not very far from where you are now. All you have to do is press the blue button, and they shall be freed. _

_"However, a small fleet of automated boats will then head towards this island. Once they have arrived within swimming distance, they will send out an automated, high-pitched frequency that only those with the Disorder can hear, and it will draw them to those boats. I am sure you can guess the rest of what will happen, right? We both know how infectious Agonist Disorder has become, yes, as well as how adaptive those freaks can be._

_"Your other choice is quite simple; press the red button, and you will start the timer for the hydrogen bomb that has been set in front of you, and you will destroy this island, thus keeping the world safe from infection by the afflicted. You can save your friends and the good doctor, who may be able to save more lives in the future, and maybe escape the island… or you can set off the bomb and save the entire world now. _

_"Honestly, knowing you, I already have an idea of which you will choose. How did that saying go? Oh, that's right…. _Kill the few, to save the many.

_"Still, it is your choice, oh Magus Killer. Which would haunt you less, do you think?"_

As Kiri looked in despondence at the two transponders, he heard Stuart's laughter one last time before the line cut out. He knew what he had to do, even as tears began to fall from his eyes. With a bellow of anguish, he pushed down on the red button. Very soon, a steady beeping filled the air.

The timer read three minutes and was steadily counting down.

_Survive, Little Cutter. Promise that you will do what ever it takes to always survive._

With a shaking hand, as he unsteadily got to his feet, and pain continued to course through his veins and limbs, Kiri withdrew a red syringe from his pack. Mercifully, it was undamaged.

Over the past several years, examinations of his father's elixir had yielded some interesting results; namely that, when one factor in its chemical composition was increased over the the others, a user could temporarily enhance their physical attributes of speed, stamina, and strength. Most of the time, the only versions he had used of this composition had been diluted enough to simply give a small increase in his reaction time when paired with Time Accel.

But the red syringe? It was increased by a factor of ten, and mixed with pure, undiluted adrenaline

With his shaking left hand, Kiritsugu jabbed the syringe straight into his heart, and pressed down on the plunger.

_Forgive me._

The elixir and adrenaline filled his veins, and everything began to slow down, as the sound of his heartbeats filled his ears over the beeping of the hydrogen bomb's countdown. Then, his circuits and crest began to light up, as time began to slow. He had only one shot at this! He needed to go fast!

_Time Alter: _Decem _Excel! _

Then, he started to move towards the beach cliff. Everything blurred, and yet was simultaneously in slow motion. He could not process his thoughts. Had he jumped, run?

He could make it-

AGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Pain. So much pain! Like he was being ripped apart, or had been shot with one of his own origin bullets.

It was like all his limbs had exploded!

He found himself sailing through the air, and hitting the water. Then, there was more pain, as the saltwater dug into his wounds

Mercifully, he finally passed out, as his blood flowed out of his broken body and into the sea, while the waves and the tide gently carried him far away and down into the depths….

* * *

3...

2...

1...

In the blink of an eye, Shigura Island was wiped off the map.

* * *

_Now_

When Kiritsugu found himself in the present once more, he felt tears sliding down his face.

But, there was no time for that now. He had a job to do.

With a sigh, he gathered what he needed, bid Iri goodbye, and headed towards the city. He still had to prepare.

Time for another visit to the Sommelier, and then the Taylor...

* * *

Waver woke up again. He looked at the clock in his room; it had only been a few hours since he had signed that damned contract.

He looked at his right hand; on his palm, and stretching down his wrist, was a strange filigree tattoo in the shape of a spear.

He looked to his left. Standing there was a young girl, with brown hair that had traces of purple in it, and purple-and-brown colored eyes.

... How long had she been standing there?

For a long few minutes, neither said anything, and they just started at each other. Then, the little girl spoke, in a rather monotone sort of voice. "What happened to you?"

Being an only child, and never really having any friends growing up, Waver had little to no experience on how to deal with children. So, he decided to just be honest. "A bad person cut my legs off. But he's dead now, because I killed him. Who are you?"

"My name is Sakura. I think that I live here now. Who are you?"

"My name is Waver... Nice to meet you?"

Before any more could be said, the white-haired woman, Irisviel burst into the room. "Oh, there you are, Sakura. I was wondering where you were. Ah, I see that you've met Waver here."

Irisviel gently helped him into a wheelchair that she had brought with her. Where had she gotten that

"C'mon. There's no point in feeling sorry for yourself, young man! We're going into the city! You're all healed up now, and so you can't just keep moping about. Thus, that is why, you, me, falconer, Sakura, and Rider are going to have a fun day in the city

Despite himself, Waver felt that he had no choice but to accept.

The only real somber moment had ben when Waver had gotten a good look at the stumps of his legs, before Irisviel got him into the chair, fussing over him and the weird girl like a mother hen.

It actually felt... a bit nice, if Waver were being honest, even if he did feel like he was being strong-armed a bit.

Besides, after what had happened last night, what was the worse that could happen?

* * *

Kirei had not slept well, not after the events with Caster.

No matter what he did, he could not shake what he had apparently heard from his mind.

Did his father know?

"Why do you look so despondent, Kotomine?"

He looked up, to see that it was Archer approaching, a glass of wine in hand. "It... it is nothing."

"Please do not attempt to lie to me. I find the action to be beyond contemptible. Now, tell me the correct answer, or I will have your head."

"... I am not sure what I should believe. During the madness of last night, I heard what i thought was my father... he was speaking about me... about a part of myself that I have... repressed for a very long time."

"And you feel shame about this part of yourself, priest?"

Kirei shrugged. "How could I not? It is unnatural, this way that I think, but... I thought no one else knew about it."

The Golden King took a sip of his drink, and then... burst out laughing. That was not what Kirei had been expecting. It felt a bit insulting. "May I enquire as to what you find so amusing, your majesty?"

"It is quite simple. You are over-examining your problem, and the answer is already lying right in front of you."

"And what is it, if I may ask?"

"That is quite simple... allow this repressed part of you to come forth, and be who you are meant to be."

"...No. I can't. There has to be another way." He then stood up, and started to walk away. Kiritsugu Emiya had to have the answer. He had wasted enough time. Perhaps it was time to confront the Magus killer...

Then, the servant of the bow spoke one last time, making Kirei stop dead in his tracks. "Doing what one desires, instead of conforming to what one expects, is honestly the only way to live, priest. To live in any other manner is tantamount to the complete suicide of the spirit. remember that, and think on what i have told you. Just be who you are, and the world will open up to you in ways you could never before have imagined."

With that, the King of Uruk then vanished into golden motes.

"The Golden asshole does have a good point, priest. Stop repressing yourself so much."

Kirei whirled around, three black keys already drawn into his hands. It was the red-haired man, calmly reclining in one of the pews. How had he gotten in?

He raised his hands. "Now, now, I come in peace, priest. I come in peace. No need to get violent."

"How did you get in here?"

The man chuckled. "I simply have a knack for going where I please. It's a talent of mine that I've managed to hone over the years."

Kirei did not withdraw the Black Keys. "What do you want?"

"I just want to talk about theology and the relationship between," his smile then turned venomous as he pointed to a bible, "him," and then to the cross in the center of church, "and him."

"….God and the Savior?"

The red-haired man gave a flippant wave. "Sure, sure, let's call them that. Anyway, let us begin. Besides, without a Servant, it's not really like you have any real duties in this War, right?"

That caught Kirei's attention. Yet, instead of attacking the man, he simply sat down, the black keys vanishing into motes of prana. "What… is on your mind?"

"I sometimes wonder, did the big asshole upstairs _really _tell his "son" what was going to happen to him? I mean, it seems like it was bad parenting on His part, y'know, letting your own flesh and blood die in such a gruesome and drawn-out way? Also, did anyone ever ask what ol' J.C. ever actually wanted? To me, it seems like he had no free will. Is not the point of being a good parent making sure that your child develops free will? I mean, take me, for instance. My father (who was also my grandfather, but let's not get into that little tangled mess at the moment), cast me out from my home, _twice_! The first because I had developed a modicum of free will, and the second because of an accident that had been beyond my control to stop. Though, I am sure that, unlike me, your father raised you with all the love and support that you could ever ask for, right?"

Kirei wanted to say that his father did, but, for some reason, he remained silent. The red-haired man chuckled again. "Then again, perhaps you too have never really had a choice in the direction that your life took, am I right? After all, why else would you be here, if not for a lack of free will. Though, I am sure it was all for your _own good_. After all, father knows best, right?"

The red-haired man smirked. "It's funny, how well parents know their children, and yet, at the same time, how little a child truly knows about what their parent knows."

He then tossed something to Kirei, a book. "Take a look through that, somber priest. Read its words, and then… do you whatever it is that you think is right."

Kirei looked at the book, no, it was a journal. A part of him said that he should disregard the red-haired man's advice, and not look at what was inside this journal. Then, he remembered what the red-haired man had just said about parents and children. So, he opened it and… wait, this was in his father's handwriting….

* * *

Waver thought that he could not get more frightened. He had faced down a serial killer, and had survived the destruction of an entire city (somehow.)

But, right now, Waver was quite sure that he had discovered the new depths of his fears and terrors.

Seriously, had anyone even taught this woman how to drive? He was just surprised that he had not ripped the safety handle off its hinges, and he was pretty sure that Lancer (King Arthur, sweet mother of mercy!) felt the same way.

To his shock, Sakura just looked stoic as the car swerved about. Honestly though, it was a miracle that they had not been pulled over yet.

This was going to be a long day, it seemed.

* * *

_December 28th, 1967_

_God is both kind and cruel, it seems. Just as He brings to me my son, thus giving life, then so too does He deign to take life as well. My wife has died in childbirth. Still, it is all part of the Lord's plan, and I shall endeavour to raise my son with all the love and devotion that any child of the Lord is owed. _

_He shall be loved, and he shall be a good man..._

* * *

_March 31st, 1979_

_My son is truly a gift from Heaven. Only eleven years of age, and he is already excelling in his studies in the church, as well as anything that he puts his mind to. I could not be prouder. _

_Still, I am concerned. While he is dutiful, he rarely ever smiles, and seems to take little joy in much of anything. But, I am sure it simply a phase that he will grow out of. Still, I shall pray for guidance._

* * *

_May 1st, 1980_

_Kirei has decided to switch from the sciences to mathematics, just as he has switched from engineering to the sciences. _

_It is as if my son completes each discipline until near completion but then... he decides to switch, almost as if he becomes unsatisfied. _

_It is somewhat worrying, though I am sure it is just a case of young man trying to find his way in life. That is, of course, perfectly normal._

_Right? _

* * *

_January 24th, 1984_

_I am very afraid for my son, both for his body and his soul. I realize that I was wrong. It is not that he feels joy in nothing. I suspect that he does feel joy, but in something truly twisted and wrong; the pain and suffering of others. I have learned this when I saw him administering to the sickly and dying at a Mission in Africa. It was only for a brief moment, but I was sure that I saw a smile on his face at the sounds of groans of agony._

_Yet, it is also as if he is aware of this, and hates himself for it. Thank God and His angels for small mercies, though I do fear as to what the stress will inevitably do to my son's mind._

_I am afraid for his soul, and thus must pray to God for more guidance, and in the Hope that He will heal my son's mind, especially as how he is due to be married in a few months... _

* * *

Kirei lost count of how many times he read and re-read that entry.

He knew. His father had known, all this time...

He knew!

He could not move. All he could do was simply stare at the page.

* * *

Waver had truly not been prepared for the whirlwind that was Irisviel von Einzbern. She was just a human sized bundle of excitable energy. It was almost exhausting to behold, but in a good sort of way, the sort that made him have a small smile on his lips.

Although, it was starting to get a bit annoying when she started using him and his chair as an impromptu shopping car, piling things on his lap and whatnot. For pity's sake, he couldn't even see, having instead to be pushed by Rider.

Oh, and that was something else he had learned today. All this time, Rider had had the ability to shrink or grow his mass and height! Why he had never done that before was beyond Waver, though he did like to think that he had taken the news rather well (at least after a few well-deserved minutes of screaming at Rider for being such a complete and utter buffoon for forgetting such important and useful information, while Iri and Sakura watched in confusion).

* * *

Today was just so much fun, and Sakura was such a delight to shop with, even if she still wasn't smiling. But, Irisviel von Einzbern was not one to give up so gosh darn easily. So, she did what she did best; talk about happy things.

"You know, back in Germany, Kiri and I have a little girl of our own. She's about your age, and her name is Illya. I think that she is going to enjoy meeting you. We all live a big white castle, and when it snows, sometimes it gets as big as you, but it's always warm inside. Doesn't that sound nice, Sakura?"

"I... I guess so?"

With a small frown, Irisviel came to a halt, and looked down at the little girl. She had sounded almost as if she were in pain. "What's the matter, Sakura? Are you feeling unwell? Is it the worms?"

The little girl shook her head. 'No. I that think the sheathe you put inside me has cleared them all up. I threw up the last of them last night into the potty."

"Then what is it?"

The look in the little girl's eyes became nothing more than heartbreaking. "I keep thinking that this is all just a nice dream, and that I'm going to wake up in the worm pit. That's why I'm afraid to let myself enjoy this, because, when I wake up, and see Grandfather laughing at me as the worms crawl all over, it won't hurt as much."

Not for the first time, due to what Kiri had told her, Iri found herself hoping tht Zouken Matou was suffering and burning in the afterlife for what he had done to this little girl. If anyone had done such things to Illya, well... Irisviel was not sure what she would do, aside from moving heaven and earth to save her daughter.

Iri knelt until she was of eye-level with the little girl. "I will promise you this, Sakura. no one is ever going to hurt you again. From now on, you will be loved, cherished, and protected, and you will be happy until the end of your days."

She then extended her pinky. "Pinky promise. Those are the best kind of promises, you know? Now, what do you say?"

Sakura looked at the extended digit for a long moment. Then... one by one, tears started to flow from her eyes and down her cheeks. With a sob that was both at once sorrowful and joyous, she threw her arms around Iri's neck, and hugged her tightly.

Iri returned the hug, her own eyes now feeling a bit damp. "It's all right Sakura, it's all right..."

When the girl finished crying, she wiped at her eyes, and then extended her own pinky to entwine it with Iri's. "Pinky promise."

* * *

As Waver and Rider watched the touching scene, the legless teen turned to look at the giant. Rider had a rather somber expression on his face as he watched Irisviel comfort the little girl, almost as if he were lost in a memory.

"Rider? Are you alright?"

"Yes, I am fine. Just... lost in thought."

"Hey, I've been meaning to ask... what's your wish for the Grail?"

The giant looked thoughtful at the question. "My wish? My wish is to know whether I am truly worthy of my father's legacy."

"That's it?"

"Perhaps. But, I am still unsure. We will have to wait and see..."

* * *

While the humans and his mistress were busy in the store, Lancer decided to idle about the rest of the shopping center. She could not help but feel both amazed... and disgusted at the sight. He could feel where the forests and wild beasts had been pulled down and murdered and displaced. But, it was not his place to judge.

"Greetings, oh lovely flower of the lance."

Lancer recognized that voice. "Archer. Fancy seeing you here, among the 'ants'."

"I could say the same about you, King of the isle of Britain."

The Servant of the Bow was dressed in modern clothes of a most expensive make, and his spiked hair was currently combed down, though he still looked no less impressive and terrible outside his golden armor. He walked up next to Lancer, and joined her in observing the teeming masses within the shopping center.

"You feel it too, don't you, my beautiful Lancer? You have seen how far the denizens of this World have fallen. They have grown soft, fate, and weak. As such they need to be culled and purged, so that the strong may be allowed to thrive and prosper."

"Perhaps, but, it is only natural for things to change from how they once were. Change, natural change is as necessary to life as is death, but it cannot be forced. Even these creatures that call themselves humans, they do not deserve such a fate."

"On that, I firmly disagree."

He then began to draw closer to Lancer, who could almost feel the man's breath upon his face. Still, Artoria remained stoic. "Truly, you are a beautiful and unique thing, more beautiful than that troublesome bitch, Ishtar, and more majestic than all the ants in this World combined. The stories that Saber told of you, why, even before I saw you destroy the Sleeping City, I have to admit that I was more than a bit entranced. So, to have you and that spear of yours as part of my treasury for all eternity. would be a most happy triumph. Will you not join me, oh Wild King of Knights? Join me, and together, we can save this World from its own weakness."

Artoria shook his head as she stepped away. "To your offer, I can do nothing but refuse, and not just because I find you small and repulsive, Golden Archer, or because I find that what you propose to be the absolute height of folly. I also refuse because I have already sworn an oath to my two masters. Even one such as I still hold to oaths once they are made."

For a brief moment, a look of dark rage crossed the Archer's face, before it morphed back into a haughty smile, which then morphed into a burst of laughter. "Such cool fire that bunrs within your breast, my lovely Lancer. I find myself enthralled even more. Still, to refuse the king is a crime of the highest order, but, for now, I shall spare you, if you answer my last question."

"And what would that be?"

"What is your wish for that pretty chalice which these magi call the Grail? Knowing of your story, is it perhaps to save your kingdom from its destruction, or some other such idiotic nonsense?"

Arthur shook her head. "No. I have no regrets about how my rule ended. I ruled in a manner that I thought best, and some did not agree. That is simply the way things are. My wish is a simple one, though, now, there is no point in using the Grail for it."

"So then tell me... What would this simple and attainable wish of yours be, King of Knights?"

Lancer looked right into the Servant of the bows eyes with her own mismatched ones. "To understand Saber's personal reasons for tearing my kingdom apart... and then forgive him."

That earned her a dumfounded expression from the Archer, and then... more laughter. "How entertainingly asinine and simple, my dear Lancer! Truly not what I was expecting."

He then turned and started to walk away. "I look forward to seeing you on the battlefield, my darling flower. Be assured that I will crush you beneath my boot when the time comes..."

"And I shall be waiting for you," Lancer whispered, as the Servant of the Bow vanished into motes of golden dust.

Well, now it was time to return to Lady Iri and the others.

* * *

Risei felt ill at ease about Tokiomi's plan, as it bordered on the immoral, but then, as always he considered the Tohsaka's wish against the wishes of other magi, and, reluctantly, found it to be for the best. He would play his part in the plan.

He then entered the church, and found his son sitting at one of the pews, bent over and reading... wait, was that his journal? How had Kirei gotten a hold of it.

Risei felt an ice-cold feeling begin to lance its way down his spine when Kirei finally lifted his head, dropping the journal to the floor with a low _thud_. The look in his son's eyes was nothing short of frightening in its intensity.

Then, Kirei spoke. "You knew?"

"...Knew what?"

"About what was wrong with me? The… _sickness _within my mind?"

Risei raised his hands in a placating manner. "Son, please, let us just talk calmly about this…."

Kirei slowly stood up, his face shadowed. "All my life, I tried my best to be the son you wanted, that you thought I was. I prayed to God, and lived by the morals you taught me, though nothing I did ever brought me happiness, save for one thing, and I hated myself for it, so much that I felt torn up on the inside about it. All this time, you knew of my suffering… and you did nothing."

"…I thought it was just a fluke, a phase,that you would get better with time, that God would…"

"God? When has God ever done anything!?" He had never heard his son raise his voice before. "All this time, you could have done something to help me and all you did was _pray_!"

In a blur of motion, Kirei stood up, and rushed towards him. On instinct, Risei blocked the first blow with his forearm, and then slammed fist into his son's chest, making him skid back a few inches.

In the next few moment, their limbs were such a bone-shattering blur of activity. Still, Risei noted that his son's technique, at least for the moment, was sloppy. As he was now, he was too fueled by rage to think clearly.

Risei had never before seen his son so emotional. It was disquieting, to say the least.

Jab, parry, axe hook, thrust, chop, jab.

Risei managed to push him back with several quick jabs to his chest and sternum.

Warily, they began to circle each other. Then, Kirei got into a particular stance.

No.

In that moment, Risei knew that he had to end this quickly. He started to rush forward, but it already too late. As if he were defying gravity, Kirei's feet seemed to levitate off the ground, as he propelled forward. Never moving, only ducking under Risei's own punch, and then, _slammed_ his fist straight into Risei's sternum.

_Eight Postures of the Buddha Guards. _A punch that could reach infinity in all eight directions.

When his son's fist connected with his sternum, it felt as if all of Risei's insides were on fire as they were being crushed and pulped. Still, he managed to remain alive and on his feet for two reasons; his own innate toughness, and the quick use of one of the many unused command seals that he had been given by the church as Overseer, courtesy of the last three Wars.

Kirei's eyes widened in surprise, making him pause just long enough for Risei to send him careening into the pews with two blows to his chest and face.

As his son fell boneless to the ground, it was taking all he had just to remain standing, even with the usage of the command seal. Still, at least this fight was over. Once he restrained his son, he would make him see sense-

The next thing he knew, his left arm was gone, and blood splattered the ground as he screamed. He looked up in shock, to see it clutched in the hands of a grinning red-haired man with... with seven scars over his lips...

Impossible! How was he even here? But that was not important. He had to retrieve those seals!

As he clutched the stump where his arm had once been, Risei suddenly felt a sharp pain in his back.

Risei slowly looked down, to see three black keys stabbed straight through his back, and out his chest in three bloody wounds. He then slowly looked over his shoulder.

Kirei.

His own son had just stabbed him, in the back.

His own son, who he had loved and cherished for all his life, had just killed him.

He could have done something, but, at the moment, all Risei Kotomine felt was just sorrow, and tiredness.

As he slid to the floor, Risei hoped, for some reason, that his son would weep tears over him. That there would be even a hint of some remorse.

But no, there were no tears. His son's eyes were dry, and a peculiar mixture of anger and sadness filled them to the brim.

But there was no remorse. At least, none that Risei's failing eyes could make out.

Ah, well.

As his vision began to darken, he started to wonder. Would the Lord welcome him, he wondered? Would it be Paradise that awaited him, in the end….

Oh.

Never mind.

There was nothing.

Nothing at all...

* * *

Kirei spat out a glob of blood, as he looked down upon his father's corpse.

What had he just done?

Even as his father died, a part of him felt joy at what had just happened, and it made Kriei sick.

What had he just done!?

Laughter cut through his shock.

He looked up to see the red-haired man sitting insolently upon the altar tossing the severed arm up and down, like a child's toy. "Well, feel better, priest?"

"What did you make me do?" Kiriei said.

The red-haired man chuckled. "What did _I _make you do? _I _didn't make you do anything, Kirei. It was your choice to attack your own father out of anger for lying to you for your whole life, just as it was your choice to stab him in the back. See, that's the thing that your Christians, and humans, for that matter, never seem to understand; it's never been Big G, or the Devil that made you do anything, whether it was to yourself, or to each other. It's always. Just. You."

"Who are you?"

The man waved a finger, as he got to his feet. "Now, now. Can't tell you that. Don't want to ruin the big surprise. But, I will tell you my class..."

He then got up, and made a sweeping bow, Father's arm still clutched in his hand. "I am Assassin, the Servant of the Shadows. It is such a pleasure to finally introduce myself to you, _Master!"_

What? Impossible!

Assassin then laughed again, and shook the severed arm in his hand. "So, with that introduction out of the way, I'm going to leave for now. Thanks the gift of the command seals, by the way. These will come in handy, down the road. See you at the end of the road, and thus...Ta-ta!"

A black key impaled the altar where the Red-Haired man had just been sitting, though his damning laughter still filled the air long after he had vanished.

Then, all Kirei could do was just collapse to the floor, and bury his face in his hands, though he did not weep. He truly thought that he did not know how.

He did not know how long he had sat there on the floor, until the door to the chruch opened up. "Father Risei? It is almost time too..." It was Tokiomi.

Kirei looked up and over his shoulder, and saw the Red Magus looking upon the scnee before him with an impassive face, before he started walking towards Father's body, and past where Kirei sat.

Accompanying Tokiomi were three men; one with sunglasses, one in a doctor's coat, and one with a large red top hat.

A moment later, the three coalesced into one.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kirei saw Tokiomi looking upon Risei's corpse for a long, silent moment. He then looked up at the sitting Kirei. No doubt he had just put tow and two together. Any moment now, he would probably attack- "It is such a tragedy, for you to have found your father like this."

Kirei's head shot up. That had not been what he had been expecting to hear. "What?"

Tokiomi continued to speak, calmly, and rationally. "It is indeed a tragedy. For you to have found your beloved father like, murdered by one of the remaining contestants of the war for his command seals."

He then pulled out a pistol, and shot father's corpse once, in the head. The echo of the shot rang out through the church. His face still impassive. "The Magus Killer is truly more ruthless than we had anticipated. He has killed your father, and has no doubt stolen the command seals for himself. Thus, it is imperitave that he be hunted down and destroyed. Would you not agree, Father Kotomine?"

Kirei hd had no idea that this side of Tokiomi even existed. He actually felt stunned. The magus then walked over and gently took Kirei by the arm, pulling him to his feet.

"Come, come, Kirei, we have no time to lose. My friends and I have created a good plan to get the lesser Grail, as well as take out the Magus Killer in one fell swoop, especially now that we have some help…"

The sound of new footsteps drew Kirei's attention, as a tall, bone-white man in strange military gear entered the church. Across his chest were several daggers that seemed to lightly rattle as he moved. When he grinned, it reminded Kirei of a shark having just detected blood in the water….

* * *

Assassin watched as the humans, Servants, and homunculi continued to idle about the city. It seemed like they were all having such a wonderful time.

Shame it would have to end.

Still, at least the old fucker was letting him have some fun.

He then reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a small orb. It fit neatly into his palm, and three distinct colors glowed within it. He could feel how the things within were pulled towards the Lesser Grail. They ached to reunite with it, to become one with it, as was their function upon being destroyed.

Well, the least he could do was give them their wish.

With a smirk, Assassin crushed the orb to dust, and watched as the three colors zoomed towards the Lesser Grail, faster than the eye could follow.

* * *

This had been a fun day. Waver could not remember when was the last time he had felt like this, being happy. Even Sakura seemed to be cracking a small smile or two.

Still, the sun was setting, and it seemed they would be heading back soon. "Well, I hope you all had fun," Iri said. "Now, we're going to head back, have a wonderful dinner, and then plan-"

Before Waver and Sakura's horrified eyes, Iri suddenly gasped, and began to scream in pain before falling to the ground and contorting in agony.

What was happening to her?

As it was, neither of them noticed the glint of a metallic thing rushing towards them...

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait. Again, real life. So, read, review, and enjoy. The old woman was a goddess, called Manari, or Bulan, a Phillipine goddess. Also, what did you think of Kiri's new backstory, and everything else. The end is in sight. Poor Kirei, and I right?**

* * *

_Alimango Island, 1951_

Natalia watched out of the corner of her eye as the young boy ran out of the woods, towards the mountain, and to his father, no doubt.

She went to follow him and then stopped when she came upon the corpse of the old woman.

Natalia looked at the woman for a long moment, put two bullets into the woman's corpse, and then raised two fingers to her temple. "One of the targets has already been eliminated, Mr. World," she said, seemingly to the empty air. "Pursuing the other one now…."

As she pursued the second target, the others were just about finished reducing the rest of the Village of Alimango Island to dust and ash and forgotten memories... almost as if it had never existed to begin with.


	8. Chapter 8

Fate Ragnarök Chapter 8: Hell and Destruction

Rider was the first to see the incoming missile and battered it away with one of his large hands, as he suddenly grew back to his full height, while the missile collided against a nearby building in a massive explosion.

He then gathered up Iri, Waver, and Sakura up in his arms, and bounded off, with Lancer right behind him. As he ran, he dodged more propelled swords and spear and arrows.

"It seems Archer and his Master have begun to make their move!" Rider bellowed as he sped through the city turning, weaving and dodging projectiles as he did so. Behind them, ever at their backs, like a hound that chad caught a scent, loomed the golden Archer on a massive flying golden machine.

Still through the rush and the fleeing, Waver could see that Iri was not looking well. She was breathing shallowly, and gently trembling. She felt both cold and warm to touch. What was wrong with her? She had seemed fine earlier.

Still, they had to keep moving. It was getting dark now, and they could only hide for so long...

* * *

_Meanwhile_

It was a serene façade, Kiritsugu though, as he scoped out the building where the F.S. Corporation was working. It irked him how he had not known about this earlier. He should have scoped out this city before the War. Perhaps he had spent too much time scouting out the other masters.

But that was not important at the moment. This was the F.S. Corporation, after all.

He shifted about in his old battle gear, which had been supplied to him by the kind courtesy of the Taylor (free of charge), who, for some reason, had kept several sets of the thing on stand by. But, Kiritsugu was glad that he did. To the Magus Killer personal pride, it even still fit without any adjustment needed whatsoever.

Now… the subtle approach, or the bold approach?

Kiritsugu remembered his teammates as they died.

Maybe a combination of the two.

Sheathing the binoculars, Kiritsugu mentally reached into the reservoir that was his mage crest….

* * *

The security guard had been working this post for the past ten years. It was a good paying job, even if all he really had to do was guard a building that was nearly empty most days of the year. A more investigative man would have thought this odd, but this man was not investigative. So, every day, he sat at his desk, passed the time through a variety of ways, and then collected his hefty paycheck at the end of each week. This week was shaping up to be no diff-

He felt a slight pain in his neck.

Without a sound, the guard collapsed to the ground in a boneless deep, a small stab wound in his neck leaking blood onto the tiled floor.

The air and light shifted around a bit, as Kiritsugu grabbed the guard's keycard. As he did, he continued on ahead, towards the elevator.

On through the building he went, setting charges, destroying cameras, and quietly killing anyone that he came across, if necessary.

They were part of the F.S., and so they deserved no mercy.

Not after Shigura, and the graves that it had birthed.

One by one, they all fell down.

Finally, in the center of the building, he found a large elevator. With a swipe of the stolen keycard, he entered, and descended…

When he finally exited, it was into a large and massive underground facility….

* * *

The sun had now fully set, and they were safe for the moment, hidden in one of the buildings by the docks, near where it had all begun. Overhead, they could feel the Golden Servant idly floating about in his strange flying machine, letting loose a barrage of weaponry every so often, though it felt as if he was not even really look for them, and was really just passing time out of idle boredom.

Still, Waver was feeling pretty terrified. "What do we do now?"

Lancer was the first to answer. "We fight. What else can we do?"

Suddenly, with a coughing fit, Iri spoke up. "No… must… get… Sakura to safety."

"I am sorry my lady, but I swore an oath to keep you safe."

Iri shook her head. "No… time… to argue." She then slowly raised up her shaking right hand, and one of the seals on her right hand began to glow softly. Before Lance could protest, the white lady spoke. "By… the Power of… my command seal… Lancer… get Sakura to… safety back at the mansion. Pro... tect her!"

The moment she said this, the command seal faded, Lancer stiffened, and then bowed to Iri. "As you command, my lady." The king of Britain then gently gathered the quietly somber, yet fearful, Sakura in her arms, despite the tears streaming down the girl's face, and, once the Servant's horse trotted into existence, they quickly sped away.

As they did, a look of pure anger cross Rider's face, and he too stood up. "I am tired of hiding. Come master. Let's put that golden fool in his place."

With a whistle, he gathered Waver in his arm, and burst out of the building, dodging more weapons, and leapt off the docks. Then, in a crash of thunder and lightning, his goat-and-Horse-drawn chariot was under them, and the reigns were firmly in hand.

Depositing Waver into the chariot, Rider snapped the reigns, let his hammer fill his free hand, and the goats and horse thundered off into the sky after the Golden Archer and his flying machine.

Waver felt like he should puke, but was too frightened to even will up the energy to do so, and simply settled for hanging on tightly for dear life.

Soon enough, some thing that put all aerial dogfights to shame erupted in the evening skies of Fuyuki City, amidst explosions of gold and thunder and lightning.

* * *

It hurt to breathe. It hurt so much.

She hated feeling so useless, but she could not even move at the moment. There was just so much pain. She wanted Kiri here, to comfort her, but he was not here. She did not know where he was.

The sound of footsteps interrupted her thoughts abruptly. Slowly, from where she lay, she angled her head to see who was approaching her. It left her more than a bit terrified.

Iri recognized the first man to be Tokiomi Tohsaka. The other was Kirei Kotomine. "Greetings, Lady Einzbern," the Tohsaka magus said, in a disturbingly amiable sort of voice, as he bent down to get a better look at her, as if he were a paleontologist who had just discovered an interesting new fossil…. Or like someone examining a somewhat intriguing new dog. "It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. I believe that we have much to discuss, about the War… and your beloved husband."

All she could do was feebly resist as the priest scooped her up, and carried her into a car, surrounded by terrifying-looking soldiers.

* * *

Sakura was starting to feel a bit frightened, especially when Lancer would not tell why she was taking her away from Iri.

Before she knew it, they were back at the mansion, and Lancer ushered Sakura inside.

The Knight then materialized a large shield, engraved with pictures of hunting, ships, and waves. "This will protect you," she said to Sakura, before she handed it to the homunculi Servants. "Once I am out, use it to bar the door to the mansion. It will protect everyone within this house."

The homunculi servants simply nodded, as Lancer strode back out the door, her armor materializing about her as she did.

Sakura felt frightened.

* * *

Once Sakura was safely squared away within the mansion with the homunculi servants, and the doors closed behind them with a resounding clang, Lancer knew that he had to get back to the Lady Iri, as soon as possible. Even from here, the Servant of the Lance could hear and see the explosions of lighting and gold in the sky. Not even bothering to bring back Lmarei, Artoria began to rush towards the forest.

A crescent of red energy blasted out from the forest. Luckily, with a quick slash of Caliburn, Arthur managed to deflect it.

Saber than emerged from the forest, the red blade in his left hand still glowing form the blast.

"I take you are here to prevent me from returning to Lady Iri, Saber?"

"That is a side benefit. I am primarily here just to kill you."

Understandable. Arthur could not fault him for that. "Very well. I only ask that you do this face to face. You do not truly need your helmet, _Galahad_. I knew who you were the moment that we met again, that first night on the docks"

The helmeted knight cocked his head. Then, he stabbed his tow swords into the ground, reached up and, with a twist and a yank, removed his helmet, before letting it fall to the ground with a dull clank.

Like his father, he was a handsome man, though where Lancelot's hair and eyes had been purple, Galahad's were silver and gold, respectively. Those golden eyes were currently narrowed and filled to the brim with hatred and anger.

With a whistle, Llmarei trotted into existence by Artoria's side. "You are aware that, due to our legends, it will not end any differently, yes?"

"It will be worth it, just to see you die once more."

At that moment, there felt like there were no more words that could be said. So, all Arthur could do was raise her lance, and ready her steed, and Saber lifted his hungry swords.

A breath, and then they moved.

Llmarei's hooves seemed to never touch the ground.

With a mighty clang, spear and sword met, with a shockwave that rustled the entire forest.

* * *

Archer had been expecting this aerial fight to be a boring little diversion. Afterall, there were very few vehicles that could stand up to the might of the Vimana.

At first, he had grumbled about his part in Tokiomi's plan, even when the tall mongrel had entered the equation. But, The King of Uruk was no Fool, and he could discern the Streznov's true master was watching from behind the grinning man's shark-like eyes.

Even Gilgamesh was wary in regards to tangling with something like that, though he was not certain just as to what _it _was.

But, this fight was proving entertaining, and he had to laugh as the Vimana dodged another bolt of lighting. "Very entertaining, Son of Thunder. Show me more!"

* * *

It had only been less than an hour, but already was the surrounding forest becoming reduced to debris and ash.

Then, up into the air soared Saber, courtesy of a lucky punch from Lancer, who was just below the Servant of the Blade.

**RHONGOMNYIAD!**

Upwards, like a mighty missile of light, did the blast of light speed towards Saber. To his credit, he did not once flinch. Quickly sheathing his swords, The fallen Knight of God presented his left arm, as if he were presenting a shield.

**LORD ALBION!**

All around him materialized the outline of a majestic and powerful castle. A moment later, the blast of light impacted the materialization of the castle.

The blast sent Artoria and Llmarei smashing back to the ground.

The mare's legs were twisted and bent beyond all recognition. She gave a pitiful whinny. With a sorrowful sigh of resignation, Arthur stabbed Caliburn through the mare's heart, ending her pain and suffering.

As the horse dissipated back into prana, more through instinct than anything else, Arotria raised lance and blade to block the two mighty slashes of Clarent and the Sword of David, the weapons impacting against the other with great and massive _clangs, _as Galahad finally completed his descent from the sky!

Clang!

Clang!

Clang!

Then, a few lucky blows opened wounds on Arthur's neck and shoulder, though she still managed to finally push back Galahad with a mighty shove.

Unlike Llmarei, the fallen Knight of God seemed to have weathered the blast of Arthur's spear quite well, no doubt in part thanks to his shield.

Though, the Son of ALncelot was not unscahthed, juding by the super-heated metal of his left arm, and the blood running down that arm. "You were always a most resilient and hardy knight, Galahad. I am gladdened to know that has not changed."

"Shut up."

Such vitriol. While not unexpected, Arotria had to admit that it still stung close to his heart. "Why did you rebel against me, Galahad?"

"Because I saw the truth of what you were! I saw you for the fake and hypocrite that you truly are! How little actually cared for your subjects, and all the foul deeds that you perpetuated!"

To Arthur's surprise, angry tears began to leak down Galahad's cheeks. "You weren't a king, you were a beast, masquerading as one. We all loved you, and you didn't care!"

With a short scream, he made three rapid slashes, which Lancer barely managed to block. "When the Fisher King Gave me his blessing of Wisdom and clear sight, I saw you for the monster that you truly were… All the villages you had put to the sword and the flame…. the May Day massacre… The expedition to Rome…Your infidelities with your sister and the others… You were an uncaring tyrant, unworthy to be King, and you had to be put down. You had to be killed, for the good of all!"

* * *

_Meanwhile_

Kiritsugu could not help but let his eyes widen in horror at the sight before him; row after row after row of tanks. The plaques on each tank only made the horror grow.

Just like on Shigura Island. They were still experimenting with that damn disorder.

He had already planned on destroying this site, but now he had a new and greater impetus to do so-

Wait, where was everyone else? Why, aside from the tanks, was this facility so empty?

"Such a familiar sight to you. Wouldn't you agree, Kiritsugu Emiya?

A powerfully crushing blow rammed itself into the side of his head and set him skidding across the floor.

It was Stuart Streznov. The man's shark-like eyes were glowing a dark green. He could see him!

With a groan as his invisibility dissipated, Kiritsugu got to his feet. "It is just you and me, Kiritsugu Emiya. No one else," the large Siberian said. "In fact, this was a trap, made especially for you, or did you find it odd that you met so little resistance in the building above?"

In lieu of a reply, Kiritsugu sped forward. With a grin, Streznov moved to intercept the attack.

Every blow that Kiritsugu made was just as swiftly matched or blocked by Streznov, before a kick to the stomach made Kiritsugu stagger once more.

"You have grown weak, Magus Killer, too dependent on your elixir and your fake limbs. Weak, like your companions, and like the residents of Shigura Island. You were right to let them all die."

With a bellow of rage, Kiritsugu let loose a hard uppercut to the man's chin, before unleashing a great flurry of blows to the stomach and the head. Stuart did nothing, but take each blow without flinching, even the blows from Kiritsugu's metal fist.

Still caught up in the throes of rage, Kiritsugu punched forward wit his right fist, turquoise lines reinforcing it to the density of three diamonds combined, and then overlaid with titanium….

* * *

Lancer was silent for a moment in the wake of Saber's declaration.

"You're right. I never once cared for Camelot. I resented being king, and I resented all of you for your weakness and your ideals. All I ever wanted was just to be left alone in my forests, among the Wild Hunt. But I still became a king anyway, because it was said that it was my destiny. All kingdoms had to be built on blood, and they have to be strong. I simply did what was natural, culling the weak so that the strong could survive, and if I was hated for it, then so be it, so long as the kingdom that they wanted survived. There was no choice in the matter. When the people wanted a King of Knights to keep them honorable, they were given a knight. Then, when they called out for a tyrant to keep them safe, a tyrant is what they were given. As I said, there was never truly a choice, be it for me, or anyone else."

"THERE WAS ALWAYS A CHOICE!" Galahad screamed in rage, as energy began to gather around the blades of his swords, and tears streamed down his face. "Every day, you had a choice to stop, to be better!

He then shook his head, angrily, though he was still weeping. "No, there is no point in arguing this with you any further, _Arthur. _It is always foolish to argue with the dead, and we have both been dead for centuries. Nothing we do here will change our legends, but, at least, I can die knowing that I killed you once again!"

Once more, energy began to build and billow around his blades. "This ends now, oh King of Tyrants! Prepare to die upon my blades once more!"

"On that, I agree," replied the Tyrant of Knights, as she readied his lance and sword. "Prepare to die once more."

With that, there were no more words to be said, and they each prepared for the next bout of blows. Yet, in their hearts, each knew that the next blows could very well be their last.

With wordless screams echoing past their lips, they both rushed forward, and the resulting clash enveloped the whole area in such a wave of energy that it seemed as if it could be seen from the sky, amidst red, blue, gold, purple, black, and white energy….

**_CALIBURN: SWORD OF THE WILD KING!_**

**_SWORD OF DAVID: EDGE OF CLARENT!_**

* * *

Almost as an afterthought, Stuart caught Kiritsugu's fist, and then head-butted him, repeatedly, and then bodily lifted him up and tossed him across the facility room. Blood streaming down his face, Kiritsugu pulled out a gun.

Stuart just calmly walked forward. Kiritsugu aimed and shot a single bullet.

In disbelief, Kiritsugu watched as Streznov, faster than it took a heart to beat, snatched the bullet out of the air and dropped it to the floor, his palm still smoking.

"When we captured you, the day you murdered Shigura Island, we took a few samples of your DNA. Such wonders, that we found. Your DNA is truly an untapped treasure trove of potential. In fact, the first test subject was me, and such grand results did come of it."

The magus killer's eyes widened, and he dove to the side, just as Stuart's invisible soldiers opened fire from around the room.

Very soon, the room was awash in careful gunfire. For a good while, all Kiritsugu could do was dodge, and blindly return sporadic bursts.

Huddled behind one of the tanks, Kiritsugu considered his next moves. He then looked up, towards the lights…

It was worth a shot.

_Time Alter: Quinque Excell! _

As time slowed down, and his perception sped up, Kiritsugu rose up his calico and began to run.

Weaving in between gunfire, he began to shoot out the lights, one by one.

Bit by bit, the room darkened, until only the dull glow of the tanks remained.

As time sped up again, Kiritsugu mustered up his invisibility (the ability coming from the crest of a magus whose specialty had been the refraction of light and sound away from his person0 once more, as he consciously began to slow his heartbeat and breathing, before vanishing into the darkness.

Right, time to really get to work.

* * *

Stuart could not keep the grin off his face. Like a rat caught in a trap, they had the little bastard cornered, even as the lights started going out, and his soldiers started dying, one by one.

"I hope you understand that all of this is only partially personal. Mr. C ordered me to make sure that you don't leave here alive. As such, and as you are no doubt already very much aware, I do regret to inform you that I was lying about being here alone. Like I have said, very little of this is personal, though most of this is very enjoyable!"

Ah well, safety be damned. With a snap of his fingers, his soldier's rate of fire increased, several of the bullets now starting to ping off the metal and glass of the tanks. They held, for the time being.

* * *

Time slowed down, but Kiritsugu barely managed to duck and speed away.

He just needed to last for a while longer. He could already hear the voices coming back, but he did not have time for an injection.

_Few… many… letussin! _

No, not now! Shut up!

* * *

Stuart just calmly followed after the magus Killer. He watched with glee as a bullet managed to nail him in his right shoulder. At Stuart's left, another solder fell dead, a bullet through its skull.

"How many nights have you gone without sleep, Magus Killer, tortured by the choice that you had to make on that Island. Over 100,000 people, and all dead in the blink of an eye, and a blast of hydrogen. Does it still haunt you, knowing that you failed to save any of them, or are you content, knowing that you saved the world?"

Another blast of gunfire was his only response. With a grin, Stuart motioned with his head towards his remaining soldiers, making them move forward into the darkness beyond the tanks.

Through his eyes, he watched as their life signs started to vanish, one by one.

They screamed as they died, but Stuart did not care. They were expendable, after all. Besides, they served his purpose, as he followed the trail of blood to a tank near the back of the room, courtesy of a blur rushing past.

He felt that this moment should be savored; especially after all the trouble the little bastard had caused him on Shigura.

Closer, and closer he came. "I must admit, this was a most fun little diversion, Kiritsugu Emiya. As such, I am almost sad that it has to terminate like this, but, all good things must come to an end."

There he was, just around the corner. Stuart then looked down upon the huddled magus, who was currently bleeding form his shoulder wound, and all of Stuart's earlier punches. Deciding not to waist any more time, Stuart withdrew his gun, aimed it, and grinned-

Wait.

Where was Kiritsugu Emiya's leg?

Then, a massive growl caught his attention, as an equally massive hound barreled into the soldier, out of the shadows. It was solid black, with black fangs, and solid gray eyes. It crunched down on his arm. It seemed nearly indistinguishable from the darkness of the dimmed room.

The little fucker.

Still, he was Stuart Streznov. He would not fall here, he would rise and overcome-

* * *

The moment that Stuart got to his feet after knocking away Tragedy, Kiritsugu tackled him back to the ground, while the Magus Killer began to stab at him repeatedly with the mother-of-pearl-handled knife of Lady B.

Chest, throat, face, shoulder, throat Stomach….

Over and over again, Kiritsugu stabbed at the F.S. murderer with Lady B's knife, all the while screaming in rage and pain until his voice went hoarse, and even thin, he still kept screaming.

For Peabody.

For Maiya.

For Johan.

Speaker.

Johnnie.

Pietro.

Shigura Island.

For everyone.

Over and over and over and over again.

_Squelch._

_Squelch._

_Squelch._

_Squelch!_

_Squelch!_

_SQUELCH!_

_SQUELCH!_

* * *

When the energy of the bout faded, and the dust and ash finally settled and dissipated, it was to reveal a most heartbreaking and gruesome sight.

They both stood there, Arthur and Galahad, and each was impaled upon the other's weapons; Arthur's chest was run straight through with the blades of David's Sword and Clarent. Galahad, o the other hand, had the lance of the world's end impaled through his neck and Caliburn through his own chest. It was probably the only thing keeping them upright, aside from their equally indomitable willpower and strength. From almost every pore of their bodies, blood still flowed freely

Then, as one, their weapons vanished, and they collapsed to their knees, though they still remained upright.

The battle was over, their spiritual cores both irrevocably destroyed.

They were dying.

As they both began to dissipate, Artoria reached with a shaking hand to cup Galahad's bloody face. He did not flinch from the touch.

There was no hatred on the fallen knight's face this time. Merely an expression of complete despair and tiredness, almost as if a madness had been lifted from his mind.

They said nothing, these two enemies, and former friends, for a long moment. What could be said? But, inevitably, the silence was broken. "I forgive you, Galahad," the King said.

To Lancer's slight surprise, Galahad managed to speak, despite the large hole through his neck. "Why?" He asked in response, blood pouring from his mouth and neck with every word along with tears from his eyes. "I rebelled against you. I killed you. I spat upon everything that you built, and laughed as it burned. Why would you ever forgive such crimes?"

"It is simply the way things were meant to be. The moment that I drew that sword form the sword, I knew how things were destined to end, though the manner of its demise was… uncertain. Perhaps, I did what I did so that it would end sooner, while giving the people what they wanted and deserved. Still, when you lay dead at my feet, I could do naught but weep. I do not blame you for rebelling against me."

Galahad chuckled wetly. "Just like my father, it seems. We could never accept such grand forgiveness. Truly, your kindness is most damning, King Arthur."

Artoria shrugged, through the motion sent waves of pain rippling through her entire body, and she coughed up some blood. "I will admit that I made many mistakes. But, as said, they were inevitable. I could have set aside the throne at any time, and chosen to lead a happier, more simple life, but destiny… destiny always finds a way. I did my best, as was demanded. Besides, it is never a king's destiny to ever truly be happy, if they are to do what is right and necessary. That is the truth of being King.

Galahad shook his head in disbelief. "I suppose that was part of the reason why I rebelled… why Mordred did. In the end… I suppose it was just because we were unable to comprehend you. How utterly pathetic of us…. But, even at the end, through the corruption…. And the burden of Mordred's identity…. I just felt sorry for you."

They had almost completely vanished. "It's odd," the kingt continued. "…. When this War began, I though that I utterly hated you, as the corruption made me forget how I once felt. Now? I feel nothing for you but pity. I guess none of us really have a choice in either of our fates, do we?"

He closed his eyes and fell backwards from Arthur's hand as he finished dissipating into black dust. _"Fare thee well… King Arthur."_

Artoria could not feel anything form the neck down, and yet all she could do was smile sadly, as she too finally vanished. _"Be at peace… Galahad."_

* * *

Within the Einzbern mansion, the shield of King Arthur shimmered, but remained, even as it started to grow...

* * *

This was getting ridiculous.

They had been exchanging long range attacks, each easily dodged. The longer this battle lasted, the more likely the homunculus lady would be in danger. He had to end this, one way, or another.

So, Magni decided to do something that most would call foolish.

With something of a heavy heart, he whispered to his horse and his father's goats. They immediately understood. To their credit, there was no hesitation.

Right before the two vehicles collided in an explosion of lightning and fire, he grabbed his master, and leapt off.

When he landed, it was by the city's bridge. On the other side of it, the two vehicles crashed to the earth with a deafening crash.

As he set Waver down, the two could do naught but look upon the wreckage from their side of the bridge. "Is… is he dead?" Waver asked.

Magni glared at the wreck, and sniffed the air, the action only making his frown deepen. "No, he's not."

A moment later, he was proven right.

* * *

Finally, Stuart Streznov's body stopped twitching. With a tired groan, Kiritsugu rolled off the body and slumped against the tank nearest to him, riddled as it was with bullets and blood. Lady B's knife was still tight in his grip, even as he sheathed it, and then injected himself with another dose of elixir. Only then did he let his hands fall to his sides. Meanwhile, his left leg prowled towards him, and reattached itself to the stump of his thigh

He was starting to feel tired.

Then, a klaxon began to blare throughout the facility, as a dry, automated voice sounded out. _"Subject Streznov is dead. Activating failsafe protocol. Releasing contents of storage tanks now. Please evacuate the premises." _

With tired horror, Kiritsugu watched as the liquid in the tanks slowly began to drain away, and the creatures within started to twitch into wakefulness. All the while, the facility's alarm kept ringing and droning on, as the liquid from the tanks kept draining.

_Brong!_

_Brong!_

_Brong!_

He was so fucking tired. As it was, he was not sure that he would be able to fight them off. He had no idea what abilities the agonist disorder had imparted on these sleeping subjects.

Fuck it, he was really just so tired.

Then, suddenly, each and every denizen in the tanks burst into flame, the creatures within screaming in agony as each was reduced to ash.

The heat felt as warm as hell. Then, someone walked in front of him, and bent down to look at him.

"Laying down on the job, Magus killer? Very sloppy. Alos, i have to say that you look like shit."

Kiritsugu slowly looked up. There was a grinning red-haired man with… seven scars over his lips…

"You look like shit, Magus killer, but you can't rest yet."

Despite the creatures now being quite dead and nothing but ash, the alarms still kept blaring.

_Brong!_

_Brong!_

_Brong!_

* * *

From their vantage point, Rider and Waver watched as the Golden Archer emerged from the wreckage of his flying machine, and the chariot. From what Waver could make out, the enemy Servant was unscathed.

Rider rumbled as he gripped his hammer tightly. "Stay here master. I will take care of this golden fool once and for all."

Waver looked at his servant as he started to walk forward. After witnessing the firepower this Servant had, as well as how he had just walked away from the crash like it had been nothing? Was Rider insane!?

"Wait!" Waver cired out. "If you do this, then you're going to die. That kind of Servant, I don't think he can be beaten. I don't even know your name, or who you are!?"

The giant paused in his striding forward at Waver's question. "Who I am is of no concern to you. What I am is who I have always been; just an idiot mongrel half-breed who has never been able to measure up to his father's legacy and hammer, and was always too stupid and foolhardy to run away, so much that it cost me my brother's life. But you, I have a feeling that you will go on to do great things Master, greater than even I could ever hope to conceive. That is why I have to fight, so that you may live to achieve those things. If I don't, then we will be as good as dead. Never forget what you see here tonight. That is all I ask."

* * *

With that, Rider strode out and away to meet the King of Heroes, his father's weapon in hand. They met eyes as both walked upon the bridge at the docks. They each strode forward until they were several kilometers apart from the other.

The two stood there, facing one another. Demigod to demigod. Though they were still so far away from the other, both could hear the other as fluently as if they were standing a foot from the other.

"I shall give you one last chance, Rider. Stop hindering me between the Lesser Grail and myself, and you will receive a merciful death. So, commands Gilgamesh, the King of Heroes."

The Rider's answer was swift. "No."

That got the Golden man's attention. "Excuse me?"

"I know that it's not a word you're accustomed to hearing, Goldie, so I'll say it again; no. I will not let you pass."

The rage upon the Golden man's face was a palpable thing that seemed to shake the air itself. Yet, there was also another emotion, evident in the raising of one of his perfect eyebrows. "Do you not know who I am, mongrel?"

"I do, and I care not. I care not if you are the First Hero. I would care not if you were the fucking All-Father himself! My master and I swore to guard that woman with our lives. You can bring all your power against me, and I will never retreat, not even from the likes of one such as you! So, come at me, Gilgamesh, King of Nothing, and I will show you the true meaning of courage and strength! Come at me if you so dare, knowing that you shall not pass by me unscathed!"

The King of Heroes looked upon the giant for a moment, a flurry of emotions raging for dominance in his mind, while his face remained impassive. It was a long moment, and then… he laughed. He laughed long and hard, and it was a beautiful and terrible thing to hear, that laughter of his. "Such grandiose bravado, Rider! I could expect nothing less from the son of the Thunder God!"

Then, he stopped laughing, and his red eyes grew a hard edge. "As such, it is only right that I completely and utterly **eradicate **you for your insolence and insult against the King of this World!"

Thunder boomed, and lightning flashed, while the sky filled with gold.

With a roar of defiance, Magni raised his hammer high as he rushed forward.

Gilgamesh smirked, and… sped forward to meet his foe, his two blades bending into tonfo form, and keening for blood.

When hammer met blade, the resounding _clang _boomed out for miles. Back and forth did these two titans battle and parry and smash, with Gilgamesh slashing with his swords, even as he also battered the Son of Thor with rapidly shot weapons, whilst blocking the half-giant's hammer with a plethora of ancient and powerful shields.

Each blow made the bridge rumble and groan with stress.

Despite the attitude that he presented to the world at large, however, Gilgamesh was not stupid. He was a king, and a warrior, who had fought some of the most deadly and powerful monsters and gods of his time. As such, he knew how to formulate strategies based around downing large, fast, and durable opponents.

Even as Rider grew closer, Gilgamesh only had to wait for the right moment.

There!

In the space of time it took for a person to start blinking, Rider was suddenly encased from neck to ankle.

* * *

Tried as he might, Mangi could not break free.

These chains felt strong than that damn ribbon, Gleipneir! What were they?

From where he stood, despite the minute scratches on his face, Gilgamesh smirked, and it made Magni only madder. "A most fair bout, Rider, but this ends now."

He sheathed his swords and held out his right hand. From a singular golden portal slowly slid out a weapon.

Physically, it looked like a red, black, and golden drill, with handle and basket hilt being covered in small, ancient lettering of a dead language.

But the power that it emanated?

Magni could tell that such a weapon was an equal to, if perhaps _greater_, measure than his father's hammer, and it made him only struggle more furiously, though it felt a futile effort. It felt like every second, the chains grew tighter around his form

That weapon of Archer's. It gave off the same feeling as that of _Ragnarok _itself.

Faster and faster and faster did that strange weapon then begin rotate, filling the air with a low, drill-like whine. "Now, vanish from my sight!"

**ENUMA ELISH!**

From the weapon blasted out a wide beam of pure red energy, the sort from which stars were born.

He was enveloped in the blast, the least of which knocked the jewel from his forehead. Yet, despite himself, Magni was grinning. A second before he was fully enveloped, he whispered. "I devote this sacrifice to…."

As he whispered, Mjolnir twitched, and a spark of lighting started to dance across its head...

* * *

Gilgamesh smirked. A good battle- wait, why was Enkidu still taut? What was it still ensnaring?

Then, the bridge seemed to reverberate with a low growl, as the hammer Mjolnir then zoomed right past Gilgamesh's ear, almost as if it had been repelled by something. The hammer had been shattered into two halves.

What!?

Rider's voice then echoed all around him, and it made the very bridge twist and shift from its force.

**MJOLNIR RAGNAROK!**

Then, the smoke cleared.

It was still Rider, but something was different. He seemed more… wild, more berserk, as he began to thrash about, and as he growled like an animal. His hair had grown shaggier, his clothes more tattered, and his eyes were now two orbs of pure mad and angry red. Impossible. How had he survived a direct blast from Ea!?

No matter, he would still fall, and besides, Enkidu was still restraining him tightly-

Then, with another mighty roar that seemed to shake the very heavens…. The chains holding the giant still, they shattered into shining fragments.

"What!?"

Then, like an avalanche, Rider barreled forward towards the King of Uruk, lighting wreathing his form, and another roar bellowing forth from his fanged mouth.

Despite himself, Gilgamesh hesitated, if only for a tenth of a tenth of a tenth of a second, due to the shock of Rider's impossible feat.

That was one tenth too long, as one of the errant bolts of lightning wreathing Rider's form would prove.

Gilgamesh felt pain, actual pain, lance itself across his face the moment the lightning struck him in the eye.

Still, he would not fall here. Like the giant Humama, this brute would fall.

As he dodged, a small portal appeared next to Gilgamesh's hand, and he reached in, grabbed the length of Enkidu, and pulled it, hard, the portal expanding behind him as he did so, right towards the roaring Rider.

The Gate of Babylon was extremely unique among all noble phantasms, mainly due to its contents. Every single Noble Phantasm, bar some exceptions, or at least their prototypes, are housed within it. However, what many people fail to understand is that it is not just weapon phantasms. It was all types, from every single legend and myth from all across the globe. Statues, shields, poisons, and even things that were only "gained" after death.

One such phantasm was the Boulder of Sisphyus, which, when impacted against someone, immediately, and repeatedly, increased its weight and immovability until the target was immobilized.

As such, when combined with the Chain of the Gods and a plethora of other weaponry, it made for one _hell _of an epically powerful mace-and-chain.

The moment the chain-and-weapon- encrusted boulder slammed right into the rampaging Rider, Giglamesh knew that he had only a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a second of time to take his chance.

So, he took it without any hesitation.

Overhead, and even below, over a thousand times a thousand portals flashed into existence, and rained down, and up, sword after sword after mace after mace after spear after spear after arrow after arrow and etc, all upon the Rider… A rain of weaponry so dense and thick that it seemed as it a solid and singular pillar of steel had descended from the heavens, as well as rising from the depths.

**_Gate of Babylon: Bab-ilu!_**

This entire barrage lasted five whole minutes, and only then did the King of Heroes finally relent.

* * *

When the smoke cleared again, it was to reveal a much more gruesome scene; Rider's gargantuan form, bound with Enkidu from head to neck to ankles, and every other inch of skin riddled with swords and spears and axes and daggers and arrows, as well as countless others all around him. There were enough wounds covering his form to have killed a thousand men a thousand times over, each, and enough blood to have drown an entire clan of people. Yet still, the Servant of the Mount was alive, and trying feebly to move, growling all the while, "Kill… you… never… retreat…" as lightning feebly spark about his bloodied form.

At this point, it was a miracle that the bridge was still even standing, though that would change soon enough.

With a smirk, despite the gruesome wound upon his face, the Golden Archer made more swords rain down upon the son of Thor as he strode towards the downed and crazed Rider, all the while as Ea began to twist and rotate in the King's hand once again.

"A most excellent battle, Son of the Thunder God. Truly, you are more than worthy of your father's legacy, and your refusal to back down would put even the gods of my time to shame. I shall remember this bout for the rest of the War, and beyond. OF that, you have my assurance. Now, return from whence you came, Son of Thor."

With that, he raised his second greatest treasure high, and stabbed the Son of Thor through the bloodied mass that was his head.

* * *

Through the haze of madness, Magni Thorson looked upon the shattered remains of his father's hammer, still glowing and flickering with lightning, and discarded upon the ground, one last time, before the final darkness overtook him. Despite their source, the Golden Man's words were of comfort to him.

_Never retreat… Never back down….In the end… I… was worthy…_

* * *

Waver watched with horror as his Servant finally died, and the seals on his hand faded to nothingness. During the battle, he had ben knocked and tumbled to the ground.

The bridge was now completely destroyed. Yet, during the entire thing, he had never once looked away. For some reason, he felt that he had owed his Servant, that he had owed Rider, that much.

But now that it was over? All he could do was try and get away.

As he tried to crawl away, he found himself being ensnared by a chain wrapping tightly around his chest and neck, dragging him back across the ground.

The Archer's face was a horror, with the entire upper-right side being scorched beyond recognition, though the left remained unmarred, save for the blood splatters.

As Waver dangled, the stumps of his legs flailing about uselessly, the ancient hero spoke. "Your servant fought very well, mongrel. Truly, a battle that would have put mine own with the Bull of Heaven and Humama to shame." the Golden king said. "As such, and as a favor to him, _I _will not kill you here, despite your refusal to stand tall, even in the face of your betters."

Then, the chain around Waver's waist vanished, leaving him to suddenly dangle and choke from the one around his neck, slowly cutting off his oxygen, as the Servant's single eye began to blaze with anger and rage. "However, your unruly Servant still managed to scar my glorious and royal countenance. As such, recompense must be taken. The hands that summoned him, and an eye for an eye!"

Like plucking an apple from a branch, he tore out Waver's left eye, and crushed Waver's hands. Then, the chain around his neck vanished as well, dropping him to the ground.

As Waver clutched his ruined hands to his eye socket and screamed in agony through his bruised throat, the King of Heroes smirked. Then, with as much effort as one would give a piece of trash, Gilgamesh picked him up by his shirt, and tossed him into the sea.

As he fell, the strange spear tattoo on his right arm began to glow.

On the bridge, the jewel that had fallen from Magni's forehead began to glow and rose from the ground.

The last things that Waver ever saw as he sunk beneath the waves were two ravens, circling overhead….

* * *

Assassin slapped him lightly across the face, the action bringing Kiritsugu back to full reality and wakefulness.

"Rider and that young master of his are dead and defeated, as is your own Servant."

As he said this, Kiritsugu felt a sharp pain in his right hand, and watched in horror as his remaining command seal slowly vanished.

No… not now, when he was so close.

The Red-Haired man gave a mock sigh of pitying sorrow. "It hurts, does it not? To be so close to your goal, only to have it ripped out from under you at the last moment. But, luckily, I am here to offer you a second chance. I am Servant Assassin, and I can become your new Servant."

Assassin's grin was a terrifying thing to behold in its sincerity. He then reached out his hand to the slightly shocked Kiritsugu. "Make a contract with me, former Master of Lancer. Let our fates be bound to each other's. Then, together, we will kill our enemies, save your lovely wife, finish this War, and finally… you will be able to achieve your dream."

Kiritsugu looked at the outstretched hand for a long moment, and then, he grabbed it.

The red-haired man laughed uproariously as he pulled the magus killer to his feet. "A good choice, Kiritsugu Emiya. A most excellent choice. Now, let's go. Although, I do believe that we are going to need weapons."

* * *

The few still within the Continental lobby were treated to a ghastly and terrifying sight; the Magus Killer, drenched in blood, clothes torn, and followed by a grinning madman.

Izanami, still at the front desk, was unfazed, even when Kiritsugu Emiya walked right up to her. "There is no need to say anything," she said, before he could speak. "Everything you two will need is waiting for you in the garage. Please, follow me."

Slightly confused, the two followed the concierge down a stair way, to a large, underground garage. What Assassin saw waiting for them put a great smile on his scarred face and lips.

It was a large, armored gun-truck, with a large pig's head painted on the side of the doors. Asssassin began to cackle like an excited child that had just unwrapped its first Christmas present as he rushed over to examine the vehicle, almost as if her were greeting an old friend. "Oh, Gullinbursti, you most magnificent boar! Truly, a great beast of War is thee! Truly, if any deserves to be harnessed to that thundering bastard's chariot, it is most certainly thee!"

Still laughing, he looked up through the concrete ceiling to the heavens. "Oh Wednesday, you magnificent fuck! I think I could kiss you when next we meet!"

He then turned to Kiritsugu. "Come on, Magus Killer. We are storming the castle in style!"

The Magus's killer only answer was to get behind the quad mount, and load in the bullet-belt.

With anther laugh, Asassin mounted behind the driver's wheel, and the engine slowly roared to life.

* * *

The temple of Mount Enzou was well-built, and quite pleasing to the eye, Tokiomi decided, minus the bloodstains from the dead monks, of course.

The medic attached to the soldiers that the F.S. Corporation had lent had had examined the Einzbern homunculus. She did not have long, perhaps an hour or so at most. Tokiomi felt a bit sorry for her. It seemed that the Einzberns had been characteristically cruel in their design of the Lesser Grail. Even for him, it was unsightly to see her in such pain.

"Before you fade away, Lady Einzbern, what is that your husband wants? What could a creature like the Magus Killer possibly want from the Holy Grail?"

Tokiomi watched as she struggled to life her head. "Why... do... you want to know?"

"Call it professional curiosity. When hunting monsters, it often helps to know how they think."

She feebly shook her head. "No... Kiri... is not... monster."

He shook his head in return. "Don't be so naive. One does not attain the moniker of "Magus Killer" without committing at least a few heinous acts."

That seemed to only agitate her more. She was actually coughing up blood at this point. "You... wrong... Kiri... wants... to save the world!"

What?

That was the monster's wish, the desire he held deep in his heart?

Tokiomi laughed, and it was a thing full of sorrow. "Save the world? Oh, you poor, foolish, deluded homunculus. There is no saving this world of ours."

As he spoke, he remembered Aylesbury, and the laughter of the Dark Six, even as it died. "This world is full of nothing but shit and pain and agony, and creatures who think it amusing to make us all suffer. The best we can do is either survive, or hasten it to its end."

He then stood, and gently put his hands around the now weeping woman's neck, wiping away her tears as he did so, almost as if he were holding a frail kitten. "But worry not, for soon you will no longer be in pain."

_Snap._

As she expired without a sound, he gave a sad sigh, as he stood. "Your husband will be joining you soon enough."

Cornelius laughed at the scene, as Tokiomi then turned and pour three cups of wine. Meanwhile, the body of the homunculus started to glow.

Archer entered the temple, bloodied, and with his armor cracked and broken in Several places. Still, there was a triumphant expression on his face.

"Rider and his young Master are dead."

Tokiomi smiled at the news. "Well done, your majesty. Truly, it must have been a most magnificent battle. Oh, but you are wounded. I can heal that, if you wish..."

The King shook his scarred head. "No. I shall keep it as a reminder of my battle with that unstoppable Rider. It would be demeaning to his memory to just erase it so callously.

As they spoke, Tokiomi, Cornelius and Kirei watched as the Lesser Grail slowly began to emerge from the Homunculus' dead body. It was in the shape of an medieval drink chalice. It then slowly floated towards the center of the mountain. Intrigued, they followed it, to find it floating in the center depths of the cavern, before what could only be the Greater Grail.

It was a large, glowing orb, and it was a radiant gold in color.

To Tokiomi's eyes, it was the most magnificent thing that he had ever seen.

They were so close. Indeed, if he wanted to, he could reach up and touch the Grail, Greater or Lesser.

Then, Archer's eye perked up. "It would seem that we are to receive some last-minute guests, Tokiomi."

As the Archer vanished into golden motes, Tokiomi nodded. "Very well. Cornelius, Kirei. Let us go and greet our unwanted guests. Have the soldiers blockade the way to the mountain and prepare for combat. With luck, tonight is the night that the Magus Killer dies."

* * *

Kirei stood still for a long moment, looking at the body of the Einzbern Homunculus, as her words echoed through his mind.

That was the Magus Killer's wish? How could someone like him have such a childish wish?

He shook his head. Utterly ridiculous. There had to be more to it then just that.

Then, Tokiomi's voice echoed through the chamber. "Come along, Kirei. We must prepare for our guest's arrival."

* * *

Through the telescoping lens, they were treated to an odd sight; a large gun truck, speeding at an impossibly break-neck pace down the street, and being driven by a madman with a scarred smile. In the gunner seat of the Quad Mont was the Magus Killer. At the foot of the mountain, the trucks and soldiers lent by Stuart (who was no doubt now quite dead) moved to intercept and began to open fire.

"The beast approaches the castle, it would seem."

"Indeed."

Tokiomi and Cornelius then shared one last toast. "Do you think that we will defeat the monster this time, old friend?" Tokiomi asked.

Down below at the mountain's base, the soldiers were being mowed down, courtesy of the Magus killer, via alternating between the quad Mont, and a large gun that he used to launch powerfully exploding grenades made out of hearts.

Cornelius smirked, as he and Twice and Nigel coalesced into their true from; a tall man, with a face that seemed a bizarre combination of Twice, Nigel, and Cornelius. This form had been a result of Aylesbury. "No clue," the composite being said, in a voice that sounded as if three were speaking at once and at the same time. "We will have to see. But…" after draining his glass, and letting it fall to the ground with a shattering impact, he raised his gloved hand, and gestured towards the distant figure of the approaching magus. "…That does not mean we are not allowed to fire the opening shot."

_"Go away the shadow. It is impossible to touch the thing which are not visible._  
_Forget the darkness. It is impossible to see the thing which are not touched._  
_The question is prohibited. The answer is simple._  
_I have the flame in the left hand. And I have everything in the right hand――――_  
_"I am the order. Therefore__，__you will be defeated securely――――!"_

In the next moment, the forest, and a good portion of the city in front of them of them erupted into a sea of flames.

* * *

Assassin smirked as the sea of Flame erupted all around and towards them with the speed of a rampaging dragon.

Not too bad, for a human. Indeed, for a human, it was almost to the peak of top magecraft, bordering on Magic.

It was very good indeed. But, not good enough.

With a mad grin, as he floored Gully, the Servant of the Shadow snapped his fingers out the window, and sent a burst of ancient power hurtling forth.

* * *

Tokiomi watched with some disbelief as the truck continued unimpeded and un-melted through the inferno, smashing through the blockade in a flurry of metal and bullets and flames.

"I have to admit, that is impressive. But we must get going. When he inevitably arrives here, he will no doubt be going straight for the Grail. We will intercept him there."

"Very well."

Kirei styed where he was for a long moment, seeing the face of the Magus killer through the enhanced spyglass. The man's face currently bore a strange combination of grim determination, and anger.

Tonight, he would finally get his answer.

He just had to.

* * *

The soldiers of the F.S. Corporation were professional, and each a cold-blooded killer who would massacre a small African village single handedly and laugh about it, if they were ordered to laugh.

Each could take on ten men with both hands tied behind their back, and were currently carrying the best equipment money, blackmail, and politics could afford. There was very little they couldn't expect in a firefight.

Of course, the sight of a flaming gun truck, being driven by a grinning mad man with a distorted smile and red-hair, zooming towards and past the, and up the stairs towards the temple on the mountain was one of the few things that they did not expect, even as they were getting mowed down by the machine guns of the quad mount.

At that moment, it seemed less that they were driving a gun truck, and more like the two were each mounted upon a chariot being pulled by a mountainous boar of gold and fire and quills and tusks, as the gun truck, impossibly, seemed to fly up and off the steps towards the Temple.

Then, the magus killer hefted up a rocket launcher towards them.

Through the flame, the truck rammed into, and through, the main temple, and then screeched to a halt amidst a burst of grenades and gunfire.

The moment the car finally ground to a halt, Kiritsugu and Assasssin were already out, guns continuously blazing.

Ten soldiers died just from being run over, and a dozen more were quickly mowed down from gunfire.

"You run on ahead, Kiritsugu Emiya. I shall handle things here," Assassin declared.

* * *

He dashed into the temple, and down into the connecting cavern. He had to find her. He would find her, then they would win this War.

To save the World, he had to find his wife-

The whip of flame coiled around his chest, slammed Kiritsugu into the cave wall, and then retreated back into the head of a jeweled cane. Holding that cane was a familiar face.

It was the Tohsaka patriarch, an expression of determined anger on his face, as he approached with an unknown man in red, and Kirei Kotomine.

"Kiritsugu Emiya. I would say that this is an honor, but I despise lying to the dead. So, prepare to die."

Kiritusug had nothing to say in response, save raise the Calico, only to be bull-rushed by the priest… and Tokiomi. The unknown man in red stayed back.

To his credit, Kiritsugu managed to keep a firm grip on the Calico, even as he parried Tokiomi's chop, and then blocked the priest's kick with his left forearm.

Then Tokiomi's cane slammed into his ribs.

Very soon, a twisted three-on-one battle commenced.

* * *

It was always so much fun, slaughtering these soldiers of the F.S. It was also just so gosh darn funny, how they thought that their bullets could stop him, or even hurt him.

It was more instinct than anything else that made him skid to a halt, after tearing off a soldier's head with his bare hands.

The moment he skidded to a halt, a shining sword impaled itself through the dead body of the soldier in front of him.

Assassin looked up, and saw the King of Heroes, floating in the air like a mix between a judging deity and goddamn douchebag. "Gilgamesh… I must say, that massive burn wound on your face is a complete improvement. It gives you character."

The King of Uruk did not rise to the bait. "So, you are the trickster that had been wrecking merry havoc throughout this War?"

"At your merry, havoc-wrecking service, oh King of Uruk."

Gilgamesh titled his head slightly. "I am surprised that you recognize me. Despite my great majesty, very few of the other mongrels in this War could recognize me on sight."

Assassin did not miss the variety of golden portals slowly radiating into existence around them, but he still carried on as if he were having a fun little conversation. "But how could I not recognize the third King of Uruk? He who slew the Bull of Heaven, pissed of the Goddess Ishtar, and then died without achieving immortality? In all honesty, you are very, _very _hard to forget."

His scars then slowly began to glow. "After all, you did kill me, do you not remember?"

Gilgamesh's eye widened in recognition. No, that was impossible.

Red… Seven. "Humama?"

The impossible Assassin smirked, and that smirk then shifted into a loud burst of laughter. "In a way, yes. That was part of why I let myself be drawn from the Throne, three years ago, because, after all, how could I pass up the opportunity to destroy the little upstart dipshit that murdered me. Besides, I already got my revenge on that beast that you had always regarded as a friend."

Gilgamesh's shock gave way to angry confusion at Assassin's declaration. "What are you blabbering about, mongrel?"

Assassin kept talking and kept laughing. "Do you know why the Berserker-class Servant was the only Servant that has never revealed itself during the War? That is because the stupid beast died before the War's start."

With an overly dramatic flourish, Assassin dodged and block and parried aside several powerfully launched spears, and just. Kept. Talking. "The original Master of Berserker, a pathetic little man who only ever wanted to save the life of a little girl, was intercepted, and his command seals were taken, by a friend of mine who has the ability to not remain tethered to the past, present, or future.

"After the Seals were taken, my friend then traveled three years into the past, where I was already waiting, and there, they summoned Berserker. One minute later, I killed Berserker."

That… was unexpected. How could an Assassin do such a thing?

Assassin's eyes narrowed as his grin widened. "Do you want to know who that Berserker was, King of Heroes? I can assure you that it was something that was quite close to you. In fact, I do believe that one of your endless, gaudy trinkets, is named after it!"

That stopped Gilgamesh dead in his tracks, even as he half-heartedly blocked several rapid slashes from the Servant of the Shadows with Enki, before leaping away with a flurry of weapons.

"Impossible. You are lying to me, Mongrel!"

"Oh, but I am being honest in my claim. Use your secret Noble Phantasm, oh King of Heroes! Peer through to the past and see the truth of my words!"

Archer's right eye began to glow a soft blue, as he murmured under his breath. Then, a look of pure horror and sorrow adorned the Archer's scarred face.

Assassin's laughter was nothing short of maniacal. "That is correct! It was Enkidu! Your 'one true friend,' King of Heroes! You should have seen how magnificently pathetic it was. Your friend could not even speak, but simply groan and roar like a dumb beast, and was a towering thing of bone, clay and dumb rage! And I killed him, in less than a minute! Truly nothing more than a lowly thing of earth and clay was your friend. Truly pathetic, just. Like. You!"

Assassin had never believed that Gilgamesh could have been struck dumb. But, here, right now, the normally verbose King of Heroes was.

Then, upon the now one-eyed king's face was an expression of such deep and dark rage. But this was not a simple, mortal rage. This rage was the sort that would have burned down the entirety of reality. Indeed, such was his wrath that the very ground itself was beginning to shake.

_"**MONGREL!"**_

Assassin simply laughed again, as he readied for the divine Judgment that was about to befall him. "I weathered the wrath of YHWH itself, twice, and spat in its eye the second time with the death of my first life's brother Abel! I have survived the deaths of every pantheon in the World's history, since its very inception! I have fought in every war and have killed more things then there are people on this planet. You do not scare me, King of Failures, for I do not believe in you!"

As he said, that, he then dashed forward, dodging and weaving and parrying through an impossible-to-parry-and-or-doge wall of launched weapons.

After getting through it with nary a scratch, he zoomed past the King of Heroes, and lightly slashed him across the cheek with his knife of stone and bone.

Even as he sped down into the depths of the temple, and the mountain, towards the grail, the mad laughter of Assassin seemed to echo straight into the King of Hero's ears, and, indeed, into the ears of everyone of the city, and it was a terrible thing to hear.

* * *

Kiritsugu was losing, and he was not sure how long he could keep even that up.

Whenever he got an opening, the cackling man in red promptly melted it with a burst of flame.

Briefly, he managed to shove the priest and his black keys back, only to then have to power through a smash to the head by Tokiomi's cane, followed by a four rapid blows to the chest. He felt that, even through the remnants of his body armor.

Tokiomi backed away as the priest, who had reoriented himself, rushed in, black keys flashing and ready.

They were a good team, barley allowing Kiritsugu time to breath. With a grunt, he parried aside several of the black keys with his left arm, though a few of the others still sliced several wounds through his right thigh. The priest's eyes still widened in surprise at the clang. It made him pause long enough for Kiritsugu to smash his right fist into the priest's chin.

There, an opening to kill, right-

The Azoth dagger stabbed right into the back of his right shoulder, making him stagger. Then, simultaneous kicks from Tokiomi an the priest sent him skidding across the floor. Oddly enough, they did not pursue him right away.

It was getting so hard to think. The elixir was being burned through at an accelerated rate, no doubt in part due to the blood loss. Blood was either dripping out his wounds, or pounding in his ears.

He drew a handgun, only for it to be sliced apart by a thrown black key, making it explode into useless parts and scrap. "There is an illusion about him," the man with the red hat and with three voices said. "Let us see what he is hiding, before we kill him."

"Agreed," said Tokiomi Tohsaka, looking prim and regal, despite how the flesh around his left eye was becoming swollen from one of Kiritsugu's blows.

Painfully, Kiritsugu felt the illusion about his body be ripped away...

* * *

Rage. Nothing but pure, unmitigated rage.

Over and over, his mind's eye revealed the image of Enkidu, his friend, his one true companion, dying over and over and over again, whilst the Assassin, that monster, just laughed.

Then, through the rage came a terrible and divine conclusion. At that, Gilgamesh understood what needed to be done.

After another barrage of spears and arrows, Gilgamesh ascended into the air.

As his glowing tattoo spread itself across his magnificent form, shining even through his equally magnificent armor, he reconfigured Enki into its bow form, and a long glowing bowstring then connected the ends. Into his free hand materialized a golden arrow, which he nocked to the string.

"This world does not deserve my Mercy, nor does it deserve the truth that is EA. When my friend first died, I aimed my ire at the gods, especially the rancid and petty bitch-goddess responsible for it. But now, my friend has been murdered a second time, and at the hands of a being summoned by humans, due to a ritual created by humans. As such, they must be judged, and so shall this World be judged as well. It is time for this planet to be wiped clean of all its sins!"

As he pulled back hard on the glowing bow string, Gilgamesh's voice rang through the heavens.

**_Behold! The inferno of destruction fills the heavens! Come forth! The Surge of Utnapishtim! This is what it means to destroy the World! Heroic Spirits, Humans, suffer the curse that the insolence of challenging the King of Heroes has brought upon your heads! _**

**_ENKI: SWORD OF THE END!_**

Like a small comet, the arrow whizzed down, past the battle between Kotomine, Tohsaka, the thing that was Cornelius, Nigel, and Twice, and the Magus killer, and into Assassin's back just as he grasped the Grail.

* * *

As the arrow impaled him, Assassin still grinned, and his scars began to glow just as he grasped the grail, two in particular.

"That's right, stupid golden bastard… Just what we need."

As he spoke, the Grail began to shake, and slowly oozed out something that seemed more evil than ordinary mud.

Still, Assassin was unperturbed, even as it enveloped him fully.

Just a bit longer….

* * *

Kirei and Tokiomi studied the sight that lay before them. "So," Tokiomi began. "This is what you truly look like."

Where before, the magus killer had looked like a man with tanned skin, black hair, and empty brown eyes, now, he barely even resembled that.

His entire body, from head to toe, was covered in large and small scars, and a great deal of them looked like surgery scars. Over his lips and across his jaw and down towards the point of his chin were seven long scars. His right eye was still brown, if a bit bloodshot, but his left was a solid orb of muddy red. His hair was a garish mixture of red and white. His entire right arm, from shoulder to finger, was a solid black, and it made Kirei uncomfortable to look at for too long.

He also noticed that the wound on the magus killer's right arm and both legs, the ones inflicted by his Black Keys, were _smoking_.

Kirei did not know what to think. Even after reading through his file, one still had to wonder at what must have occurred in his life to have resulted in him looking like this.

Tokiomi then spoke, as he lifted his cane. "Truly, a most fitting visage for a monster such as yourself, Kiritsugu Emiya. You will die, for my wife, my daughter, and the countless others that you murdered, Magus Killer!"

The magus Killer responded, in a scratchy and worn voice. "You're right. I am monster. But I am the monster that is going to kill you all and save the world!"

Then to the surprise of all, he rushed forward towards them in a blur.

* * *

_Time Alter: Hex Accel!_

* * *

To his credit, Tokiomi, still brimming with Fresh reinforcement, on top of a lifetime of martial arts training, managed to intercept the rushing Magus Killer, Kirei right on his teacher's heels, with his hardened cane slashing towards his head. The Magus Killer did not cease in his running, and just raised his right arm, as it briefly lit up with turquoise...

* * *

_Time Acceleration: Rot!_

* * *

The moment Tokiomi's cane impacted against Emiya's arm, there was a brief flash of light, and the stick... rotted away. A moment later, a punch to the head sent Tokiomi hurtling back, whilst another slammed Kirei to the floor after slashing at him with an army knife that then found itself buried in the priest's shoulder.

Where had this strength come from!? It was inhuman.

Then, with an actual growl, the Magus killer actually dashed forward again and... past them, to the now shocked Cornelius, who still managed to blast him point blank with fire.

But the Magus Killer waded through it without flinching. Still, the fires were hot enough that neither Kirei nor Tokiomi could safely get past to assist Cornelius, at least for the moment...

* * *

He had a single, split second opening, as the being in red who had three voices raised up his hand, no doubt to summon another sea of flame.

A split second was more than enough time within the bounds of Time Alter.

Kiritsugu raised the Contender, and fired, as time began to speed up again.

The Origin bullet whizzed through the air, past and through the flames, and burrowed a hole straight through the center of its chest, splattering the floor and wall behind it with blood.

As the strange triple being seemed to fluctuate between one and three as it shrieked in dying pain, Kiritsugu shot a second bullet into it/ their head, ending it/ their cries.

"CORNELIUS!"

The gandr then blew a small portion of flesh off of Kiritsugu's waist. Still, he ignored the pain, though, in all honesty, he could not feel much of anything at the moment.

He ducked under the blast of flame, parried another of the magi's crushing blows, and reard up, shoving his metallic left hand straight through and into the Tohsaka's chest.

To his credit, through the look of pain, and even as he was dying, Tokiomi Tohsaka managed to remain upright, and spat a large glob of blood upon Kiritsugu's face, along with one final punch.

With a roar of exertion, Kiritsugu then ripped out Tokiomi's heart in a shower of gore.

After a final moment of remaining upright, Tokiomi Tohsaka collapsed to the ground, dead.

To Kriei Kotomine, in that moment, the Magus killer seemed less human, and more akin to a wrathful and primitive beast.

It was honestly a bit terrifying.

* * *

Overhead, far above the atmosphere and the planet, a strange sight unfolded. Like a shining star, six mountainous arrows coalesced into what could only be described as a moon-sized arrow/spear/sword, creating a great ray of terrible golden light, and decended down from the heavens with the same intensity of the asteroid that wiped out the dinosaurs.

* * *

As the magus killer spat out blood and bile over the corpse of Tokiomi, Kirei considered his next move.

Blood was already pouring from several cuts on Kriei's forehead and over one eye.

He would have to plan his next move carefully. It had not escaped his notice as how a few of the wound inflicted by the black keys had briefly smoked, especially around the Magus Killer's right arm, and legs.

In the blink of an eye, Kirei rushed forward, hands filled with black keys once again, before the Magus Killer had time to breathe

As the black keys impaled the Magus Killer's right arm and legs, Kiritsugu Emiya screamed out in agony, even has he pushed/ kicked Kirei back once more. Meanwhile, the wounds made by the holy weapons began to actually smoke.

Very interesting. Plus, the revealed flesh was pure black, like charcoal... Ah, so that was it.

"Those limbs of yours… they are demons, are they not?" Kirei said, and the fact that these were his first actual words to the Magus Killer did not escape him. Especially since that the Magus Killer was, after all, the man that he had been hoping to speak with this entire war, Very interesting. The church had heard rumors of a daemon that supplied daemons wrought in the shape of limbs and other such prosthetics." Slowly, the priest began to circle the killer. "I wonder… are you even still human, or are you now a full demon? What other parts of you are inhuman, and wrought from creatures borne from the pits of hell?"

"Fuck… you…" the magus killer gasped, even as he trembled and vomited blood. With a few grunts of exertion, Kirei watched as he ripped the Black Key's from his limbs.

How much pain was he now in, Kirei wondered. Despite himself, it made him feel happy thinking of it.

Answers or no, this at least was a most enjoyable fight.

* * *

The two circled each other, men who had never met before this bloody night, and yet, each felt as if he knew the other better than they knew themselves, to a point.

But that did not matter. All that did matter was that, at the moment, they both _really _wanted to kill the other.

Their limbs were a swift flurry of bloody blows, flesh against daemon-flesh against steel.

Kirei managed to dodge away from an open palm that hd been hurtling towards his face. Too late , though, did he realize that it had never intended to hit.

The bullet, fired from the palm of the metal prosthetic, sheared off his ear, and Kirei felt the side of his head blossom with new pain. As it did, more through instinct, Kirei rammed a reinforced fist into the metal arm, causing it to twist and shatter at the elbow, and just as the knife with the mother-of-pearl handle (which The Magus Killer must have drawn in the moment his arm was shattered) severed his arm at the elbow with a clean cut. They then leapt back...

* * *

Kirei idly noted the irony at having lost his left arm, the same as the Magus killer, and his father.

Perhaps it was the adrenaline, or perhaps it was just a side effect of his bizarre mental way of thinking, but Kirei felt no pain, even as his open wound dripped and flowed with blood.

Still, he knew that he had to end this quickly.

* * *

Kiritsugu tried his best to retain coherent thoughts, but his vision was turning red, and he could hear the blood pounding in his ears. Those damn blades of that priest's. They burned!

He did not know how long he could still last. He had to end this quickly, especially now that his metal prosthetic was wrecked beyond all repair.

* * *

Assassin smiled, buried as he was beneath all the mud that was All the Evils in the world.

To him, it was barely even a warm bath.

The scars over his lips then glowed.

**_Mark of the Fallen: Sevenfold_**

Overhead, as he watched the waves surge closer, Gilgamesh suddenly gasped out in pain, and died, and a multitude of wounds tore his body apart.

Then, the Grail began to bleed more mud, as a horrendous shriek filled the air, and the mud suddenly shot straight up towards and through the natural ceiling of the caverns.

* * *

The Priest and the Magus Killer sped towards one another; their remaining arms raised up for what could very well be their final blows.

A moment before they could land these final blows, a torrent of mud burst out form beneath them, and both were enveloped before they could blink...

* * *

Outside, radiating form the mountain came a volcanic explosion of black, twisted flame, and it shot towards the city, spread like the wings of an evil phoenix.

* * *

As the waves and flames surged closer from either direction, Izanami took out the rune stone that Winston Wednesday had given her, before his death within the Sleeping City. She knew what to do with it.

Damn him.

Gripping it tightly, she flooded it, and its connecting brethren, with power and belief, as she said the damnable words. "I devote these sacrifices, to the Hanged One."

The moment she said that, the rune glowed, as did the countless others spread under the bedrock of the city, having laid there and grown and matured since 1792, two years after a War god had been brought to this strange city to help fuel a contest built partially upon the belief that the ancient heroes of the world's mythologies would one day return.

Soon, a third wave of fire and lightning enveloped the city from below as it soared up, the moment before the Grail mud, and the reborn Surge of Utnapishtim.

Thankfully, Izanami felt nothing as almost all within the city died in fire and water….

* * *

_Within the Grail/ Mindscape of Kiritsugu Emiya_

This place... where was he?

"Save the many, by sacrificing the few…. Such a stringent and strange credo to live by."

He turned, and saw... Iri?

No, it couldn't be. It looked like her, yes, but this version was wearing a black dress, and there was a dark humor in her eyes that the real Iri never had.

"Who are you?" he asked.

The imposter smiled, an expression full of innocent and benign malice. "A most excellent question, Kiritsugu Emiya, and not one with a simple answer. For now, you can think of me as The Holy Grail?"

This was the Holy Grail?

The thing chuckled again. "You seem surprised. But don't be. After all, should not a great wish-granting device be able to take on any form that it should choose?"

"What do you want?"

It looked at him for a moment, and then laughed. "I just want to grant you your wish. I too want to save the world. From itself, that is."

"What do you mean?"

It gestured, and the space around them shifted, to reveal a battleground. The air was filled with the sounds of horror, and dying. "This world, as you are no doubt aware, is full of evil, and suffering. There is no end to it, and there will never be an end to it... unless the slate is wiped clean. Only then can the world be saved, through a clean slate."

What? Kiritsugu shook his head vehemently. "No... no, that is not what I want."

It cocked it's fake head at him, and the scene faded. This time, it was wearing the form of Illya. "Really? But why. I only want to grant your wish, and, based off of your methods, that is the logical conclusion. After all, kill enough "few," and, eventually, there are no "many" left. Just empty corpses. But, would that not be preferable. In our new world, there would be no more suffering, no more pain. No more destroyed cities, and no more dead children. Life could be given a new chance to start over. Would that not be grand? Can you honestly say that, deep down, that isn't what you really want? A world where things like you don't exist?"

It became Iri once again, and held out a dainty hand. "Accept me, and I can make your dream come true, Kiritsugu Emiya-"

**ENOUGH.**

That single word reverberated though the strange mindscape and seemed to shake it to its very foundation.

Upon the fake Iri's face, there was… fear? as it suddenly looked about for the source of the voice. "How is this possible? How are you here!?"

**YOU WILL NOT CLAIM THIS ONE, ANGRA MAINYU. HE IS OURS.**

Kiritsugu turned, feeling a strange presence behind him.

An endless number of peoples and creatures, and even things, stretching back as far as the eye can see, had suddenly appeared behind Kiritsugu.

What was all this? What was going on?

They, they all began to merge.

Soon, all that was left was a gargantuan figure, wreathed in light brighter and crueler than a desert sun. It seemed vaguely foxlike, with seven distinct scars standing out against its shining form, around the area where its mouth should be.

The thing wearing Iri's face seemed… afraid?

"What do you care, Bright-Star?" The fake Iri asked, trying and failing to sound confident and unfazed.

The figure looked upon the fake Iri, as a giant would an ant. **WE TOO WISH TO SEE THIS WORLD BURN, HUMANITY SHATTERED AND SCATTERED TO THE FOUR WINDS, AND THE CREATOR HUMBLED AND ON ITS KNEES BEFORE US IN SUPPLICATION AND FEAR.**

**BUT WHEN SUCH EVENTS INEVITABLY OCCUR, IT WILL HAVE BEEN DONE ON OUR TERMS. NOT YOURS. NOW, BEGONE!**

A light, bright and uncomfortable and damning filled the empty space.

The thing wearing Iri's face then blew away into ash, with a pained scream being all that was left.

Then, there was only Kiritsugu, and the figure of light.

"Who are you?" he asked of the shining figure. In the distance of the white void, flames began to lick at its edges.

The burning thing cocked its head at him, and then began to shrink and change. Finally, in front of Kiritsugu stood a complete reflection of himself. "In my first existence, I was the Firstborn of the Stars, and I shined brighter than all that came after me. In my first life, I was the first human born from the union of the first hypocrites.

"My first mortal name was Cain. After _his _death, I was split in two, his body came back to life with a copy of my soul, and my original sprit moved on, to my first godly form. My first godly one was Set, then Pluto, Ravana, Chernobog, Loki, Reynaud, Richard, Nobunaga, Jack Parsons, and so many more, all of whom defied what was set before them, and spat in the eye of all that was good and "decent," and always in sets of three with each era, whether or not the previous would actually die…. but before all of that, many knew, and know me, as the great adversary, the Morningstar, and the First son of God."

Its fake smile deepens. "After all… the greatest trick I ever played was convincing the World that I never existed to begin with."

Kiristugu then spoke, almost in disbelief. "Lucifer."

The thing then shifted into the form of Assassin and laughed. "I am a unique existence, tied both to the Throne, and to this World, cursed by the Great Hypocrite to ever be reincarnated, over and over upon this little dirt-ball of a World. I qualify for every Servant Class in existence. Right now, though, you can think of the Assassin to whom you are bound as Reynaud, Cain, and Loki, all rolled into one."

It then leaned in towards him, an examining look in its eyes. "I must say, that, after nearly sixty years, I have been greatly looking forward to finally and properly meeting you."

"What? Why?"

It laughed again. "Why, you ask? Well that is very simple." It then poked him in his chest. "You, Kiritsugu Emiya, are my spirit's latest incarnation. The Latest incarnation of Evil and Defiance, and Destruction itself. My memories and powers manifested you in an early age, but your father, having found you standing over the corpse of your mother, interfered in my awakening. Thinking that it was the result of some foul and unknowable mental disorder, he subdued you, and then kept you in a coma until he was able to create an elixir to lock it, and any memories of it that you had, away. In fact, the only real reason he was seeking the Root was in hopes that it could cure you, Kiritsugu Emiya, since that elixir was ever only a stop-gap measure."

"You're lying."

The thing cocked its head at him. "You really believe that? Think about it for a moment. Even for a ten-year-old, why is your first memory that of Alimango Island? Why can you remember nothing before that, not even a flash or a brief glimpse? Besides, in all your life, can you truly name a single time where you actually did any actual good, or when you left somewhere better off then when you found it, even in the midst of a war-zone? How many families have you destroyed, all in the name of killing the few to save the many? How many times had you had to convince yourself, yet fail to believe, that you were doing the 'right' thing?"

Kiritsugu wanted to say that yes, he had done some good, but he could not say anything.

The Creature then turned to his left, and suddenly, there stood Kirei Kotomine. Still bloodied and battered.

"Is this true?" the priest asked. "Then what about me? Is what I am also a result of some incarnation fo yours, in my bloodline? Am I one of your "three?"

The spirit of the Morningstar looked at the priest with a cocked head, as if baffled that he would even ask such a stupid question, and it turned back into its shining form. **NO. THE ONLY REASON THAT YOU ARE WHAT YOU ARE WAS A RANDOM QUIRK OF FATE AND DNA, RESULTING IN AN IMBALANCE IN YOUR BRAIN CHEMISTRY. IN SHORT, THERE IS NO GRAND PLAN OR SCHEME BEHIND WHAT YOU ARE, KIREI KOTOMINE, JUST AS THERE IS NO REAL ANSWER FOR YOU. YOU ARE SIMPLY AN ACCIDENT OF GENETICS. NOTHING MORE.**

This time, it was Kotomine's turn to call it a liar. The thing actually chuckled, a sound that was oh so very wrong in so many ways. **I AM MANY THINGS, AND HAVE BEEN MANY THINGS OVER MY COUNTLESS INCARNATIONS, FROM GOD TO KING TO KNIGHT TO MONSTER TO EVERYTHING ELSE. **

**BUT NEVER ONCE HAVE I BEEN A LIAR. **

**NOW, BEGONE, TWISTED PRIEST, AND LET YOUR EXISTENCE BE YOUR SUFFERING AND YOUR HELL.**

With a wave of its burning hand, Kirei Kotomine vanished from sight.

It then turned back to Kritsugu and held out a shining hand. **NOW THEN, IT IS TIME THAT WE BECOME TRULY JOINED. I ACHE TO WALK THE EARTH ONCE MORE, AND HAVE BEEN DENIED IT IN THIS INCARNATION FOR FAR TOO LONG. JOIN WITH ME, KIRITSUGU EMIYA, AND YOUR PAIN WILL BE AT AN END.**

"No," Kiritsugu whispered.

**NO?**

He looked up at the ancient spirit and shook his head. "No. I defy you. I still believe in good, and that this world still deserves to live. I will never become you."

The creature was silent for a long moment, tilting its head at him, as if in disbelief as it let its outstretched hand drop to its side. Then, it began to laugh, and the sound seemed to make the entire burning space shake and crack. **WE SHALL SEE YOU SOON, KIRITSUGU EMIYA. YOU WILL BE NOT BE ABLE TO SHUT US OUT FOREVER, UNLESS YOU MAANGE TO ONCE AGAIN REPLICATE THE ELIXIR THAT YOUR FATHER CREATED. YOU HAVE ONLY ONCE VIAL LEFT, AND ANGRA MAINYU HAS BURNED ALL MEMORY OF ITS COMPONENTS FROM YOUR MIND. EVEN IF YOU MANAGE TO REPLICATE IT AGAIN, YOU CANNNOT KEEP OUT THE _WORLD_ FOREVER. WE SHALL SEE YOU SOON, AND WEAR YOUR FLESH AS OUR OWN, KIRITSUGU EMIYA.**

**IT IS ONLY A MTTER OF TIME, AND WE ARE EVER PATIENT. **

**THE _WORLD_ IS EVER WAITING.**

Then, there was nothing but light….

* * *

The world seemed nothing but fire and screams. It was if the ocean were warring with the flames for the honor of destroying the city, with the people caught in the middle.

Through it all, a whole city died, in sacrifice, whether wanted or unwanted.

Through it all, Fuyuki City died, and the Gods watched.

* * *

When he came to, he was on a massive piece of asphalt, and everything hurt.

There was nothing but seawater and destruction, for miles around.

Kiritsugu could not find it within himself to care, though, even as he aimlessly shifted through the debris and the seawater. In the distance, fire and the mud from the grail still burned.

Was there anyone that was still alive?

Then, he heard it... a pained cough.

It was coming from his left.

With renewed vigor, he shifted and dug. He removed a large piece of wet rubble... and found the source.

It was a young boy with red hair. The right side of his body was badly burned. He did not have long.

He could either leave the boy to die and keep the elixir long enough to relearn its ingredients, keeping the Morningstar reincarnation at bay, or….

No, it was no contest.

Fuck the many. For once, just once, Kiritsugu Emiya was going to actually save someone.

Without any hesitation, he jammed the needle into the boy's unburned arm, and loosed its contents into his system.

"Please…. Let one good thing have come of all this."

Then, the boy took a gasping breath, and opened his left eye, blearily.

Despite himself, Kiritsugu beg to weep in joy. "You're alive! Thank God. You're alive!"

* * *

From a short distance, Kirei, who had somehow also survived, watched as the Magus killer, the newest incarnation of the Embodiment of Death and Evil, wept as he held the little boy close. After moment, the Magus Killer left with the child.

Then, once they were gone, the priest began to giggle. That giggle turned into a chuckle, and soon, the twisted priest was bent over, laughing, as tears streamed down his face.

It was all just so fucking hilarious!

Perhaps that was the point, that there was no point.

"I understand now! There is no plan, no point, and no reason!"

Still laughing, he looked down, and saw that, bizarrely; Tokiomi's corpse was untouched, and intact.

Gathering up his teacher's dead body in his arm, Kirei was still laughing.

It seemed that he and the Magus Killer would survive to fight another day, with that of the next generation. The thought of Rin, waiting in far away Britain with Tokiomi's foreign cousin, brought a grin to Kirei's bloodied face.

He could not wait.

* * *

Sakura was no longer frightened, though it helped that the screams outside had died down. She had ben too afraid to watch from the windows. But, she knew that Lancer was dead. She had known even before the shield that Lancer had left in the mansion faded to dust.

The doors then slowly opened.

The moment that the man who saved her emerged through the doors, with a hurt boy over his shoulder, Sakura knew, instinctively, that Iri was dead. He looked at her. He looked like a living corpse. But she was not frightened, even as he knelt in front of her, and wrapped an arm about her.

At that moment, all she could do was just weep in the man's arm.

She was not frightened, but she was sad.

* * *

_Somewhere in America, two months later, after teh complete destruction of Fuyuki City._

It was an ordinary sort of American Airport; modern, clean, and always full to the brim with crowds of travelers coming and going, and either arriving too early, or too late for their flights.

One such traveler had just arrived. He was a young man, barely even twenty years of age. His hair was black, and his clothing was non-descript, if a bit rich in make and fabric. Upon his head was a wide-brimmed hat of no particular shape or color, save for the afore-mentioned wide brim. There were really only a few odd things about him: the expression of his face, which seemed older and more mischievous than the face of anyone his age had a right to be; the fact that he was wearing gloves (it was not even that cold out, and besides, who liked to wear gloves?); finally, there was the fact that he was missing his left eye, though, thankfully, the no-doubt gruesome wound was covered by a simple black eye-patch.

As he entered the airport from the plane, he looked around, and saw a tall, attractive woman of Japanese and English heritage, dressed in a suit and pants, and holding a sign over her head.

It read _Waver Wednesday._

"Mr. Wednesday. You're looking well, for a dead man. Love the new body, by the way."

He laughed, as he briefly turned around, showing off his youthful form. "As always, lady Touko, the pleasure is mine. Glad you like it, my dear. Merem and Kaie do good work. New legs and new hands. Sure, there are some scars and binding symbols, as well as this jewel now stuck in my temple, but those tend to build character." As he spoke, he removed his hat, to reveal, embedded into the upper portion of his temple, above his right brow, the jewel from Magni's forehead. Scrawled and tattooed on the skin around the jewel were strange and ancient runic symbols and circles.

Touko Aozaki chuckled, humor alight in her blue eyes. "So, did everything go according to your plan?"

The person known now as Waver Wednesday smirked as he put his hat back upon his head. "Let's see; that shitty city known as Fuyuki has been wiped clean off the map, along with most of its shitty residents and that monster that was gestating in the Grail for the past sixty years, and I have gotten a brand-new body, along with a hefty sacrifice… All in all, the plan went off without a hitch. Plus, I got these neat little beauties…" As he spoke, he rolled up his left sleeve to his elbow to reveal a plethora of Command Seals, pilfered from the corpse of Risei Kotomine. "Assassin played his part in the War well, and he sends his regards and love to you. Now, do you have the objects that I sent you to find, all those years ago, in preparation for this moment?"

Touko nodded. "Of course, though, they were not all that easy to get. But, yeah, here they are. Hope that they fit."

She reached into her pocket and held out a glass eye, a wristband engraved with various runes, and a ring. Wednesday took them with a bow of gratitude. "Don't worry. They will fit. They always do."

He then lifted the eye patch and inserted the glass eye into his empty eye socket, and slipped the ring onto his right index finger, and the band on his left wrist. "Ahh, just like an old glove." He blinked a few times to reorient himself, and then looked at Touko directly, as if he had always had two working eyes. "So, how do I look?"

Touko chuckled. "Like a million American Dollars."

"My thanks for that. Now, hold out your hand." He then waved his fingers and rubbed the golden ring on his index finger with his thumb. Into her waiting hand fell three identical rings. "As promised. Of course, you might end up bankrupting half the pawnshops on the Eastern Coast, but, well, that will not really be our concern. Now, come, let's be off."

With that, the two started to walk away, arm in arm. "So, what now?" The Magician of Blue asked, as she slipped her three new rings into a coat pocket.

Waver Wednesday smirked as he replied. "Now, dear Touko, we head out into the land that is America. The first act of this sordid little play is over and done, but the second act is due to begin soon enough, so we must start to lay down the foundations, so that the ending we want is the ending we get…"

* * *

**A/N The end of act one. Stay tuned for act two. Hope the fight scenes were adequate enough. I apologize if they were. Stay tuned for act two.**

**Also, for reference, about 70 percent of Kiritsugu's internal structure, as well as his right arm, left eye, a portion of his jaw and both his legs, had to be replaced after Shigura Island.**

**A/N/N: Fixed ll the typos. **

* * *

Saber: Galahad Alter

Master: Nigel Sayward

**STATS**

STR: B+

END: A++

AGI: A

MAN: A

LCK: B+

NP: A+

**Class Skills**

Magic Resistance: A+

Riding: A

Mana Defense: A

Battle Continuation: A

**Personal Skills**

Shield of Rousing Resolution: A

Blessings of the Fisher King and the Witch: A+

Skills and Abilities of the Father: A++

Determination of Steel: EX

Mad Enhancement: EX

**Noble Phantasms**

Lord Albion: Lost Castle of the Ever-Fading Utopia: B++

The Sword with the Red Hilt (Clarent): A

Sword of David: A+

* * *

Assassin: Cain/ Reynaud/ Loki

Master: Kirei Kotomine

**Stats**

STR B+

AGI A+

END B+

MAN A++

LCK EX

**Class Skills**

Presence Concealment A++

Independent Action: EX

Independent Manifestation: A+

**Personal Skills**

Ambiguity of Existence: EX

Natural Body: EX

Nature of A Rebellious Spirit: A++

Experience of Countless lifetimes: EX. Has all the memories and bilities of his reincarnations, though it is still limited depending on his Class Container. It is sort of like Imperial Privilage.

Connection outside the Grail: EX. Has an innate connection to his current incarantino, no matter what time period he may be summoned in.

**Noble Phantasms**

Mark of The Fallen: A++

The mark that the Creator cursed the Morningstr with. A continuously active noble Phantasm, much Like Godhand. He can die seven times, and each death is reflected back upon his attacker sevenfold. No matter the Morningstar's incarnation, these seven markings/ tattoos/ scars will always be on the lips, starting from when, as cain, he lied to the creator, and spat in its face.

Luck of the Fox: EX

* * *

_The Ruins of Fuyuki City_

The peice of debris had been undisturbed for days, jsut like the rest of the destroyed city. No one wanted to go near the ruins of Fuyuki.

Then, the debris began to move and shift about.

With an exultant cry of jubilation, Assassin burst through in a shower of dust and debris. Reynaud the Fox/ Loki/ Cain then looked about, and laughed, long and hard, his laughter bouncing off every inch of the destroyed city.

Man, Old man Wednesday never did anything by halves, did he?

Well, no time to dawdle. He had to get to America.

* * *

**Act Two Preview**

_"It will be the most important day of your life."_

_"Hi, I'm Sabrina Spellman."_

_"Call me Waver Wednesday."_

_"What is it that you really want?"_

_"You cannot escape!"_

_..._

_..._

_..._

**_Believe_**


	9. Chapter 9

Fate Ragnarök Chapter 9: Wednesday

Time passes, and it ebbs and flows much like the tide. Though the destruction of an entire city still made the world somewhat frightened, overall, the tragedy was pushed to the back of humanity's collective mind.

After all, life goes on, right?

It has now been twenty years, and the story has decided to shift it focus from the land of the rising sun, to a town in the land where the sun always sets. More specifically, a little town called Greendale…..

* * *

How would a person going about describing the town of Greendale?

Greendale is the sort of town that you would expect to have a local diner/ teen hangout, a high school with its very own varsity jacket, a few dingy bars in its less-reputable areas, acres of empty pastoral fields, and, of course, a coal mine, upon which a not-so-small portion of the town's economy rested, having been worked by many generations of the town's menfolk.

It has all these things and more, though, it does also have a few aspects that made it stand out from other small towns in the good old US of A.

For instance, there is the fact that it always felt like Halloween, no matter the day or month, and also the fact that it is filled with witches and warlocks.

Right now, in this town, there lives a girl, sixteen years of age. She is half witch, half mortal, and her name is Sabrina Spellman.

Hi, I'm Sabrina Spellman, the aforementioned half witch and half mortal, and this is the story of how I lost my arms, and saved the world…

* * *

_Greendale, Monday, October 27th_

_2018_

_Twenty years after the Destruction of Fuyuki City_

It had been a very fun evening. It was a few days before Halloween, and, as a lead up to what could be considered the town's favorite holiday, the local theater was doing nightly showings of vintage horror films, which Sabrina and her friends just loved to watch.

Tonight, the movie was Night of the Living Dead, and Sabrina, Harvey, Susie, and Roz just had to see it. It was a classic, after all.

After the movie had finished, they were still abuzz about it. "I was confused by the zombies," said Harvey, Sabrina's boy friend, as they walked down the stairs of the cinema. "I mean, why were they so freaking slow?"

Sabrina chuckled, not at all put off by her boyfriend's lack of understanding about the relative speed of reanimated walking corpses. "Well, the fast-moving zombie is still a relatively new concept in the world of cinematic horror. Earlier incarnations simply assumed that reanimated corpses were afflicted by such things as rigor mortis, and as such, moved slowly."

The group stopped for a moment as they observed a less-then wanted sight; a group of some of the local jocks, causally rough-housing around with each other.

Behind her, her friends and boyfriend kept talking. "How does she know these things?" Harvey asked Susie. "No idea," Susie answered, with a slight chuckle.

Harvey just shrugged. "I just thought they were kind of weird."

Susie shrugged as well as she voiced her agreement.

As the group started moving again towards the lobby doors, someone suddenly bumped into Sabrina's shoulder. She looked up, and saw that said bumper was… "Mrs. Wardwell?"

"Sabrina," the woman with glasses said, a genial smile on her face.

The night had just gotten a whole lot better. Mrs. Wardwell was generally considered to be Greendale High's nicest teacher, though she was also a bit mousy. But, more to the point, she was one of Sabrina's favorite teachers, if only for how unfailingly kind she always was, especially to Susie. "Mrs. Wardwell. Hi. I didn't know that you were a fan of horror movies."

Harvey chuckled. "Yeah, Sabrina here's nuts for them. The gorier, the better."

Mrs. Wardwell in turn chuckled a bit, as he absently wiped her glasses with a small cloth. "Well, um, who doesn't enjoy a good scare every now and then? Especially at this time of the year?"

Sabrina defiantly couldn't argue with that, and now, Mrs. Warwell had earned another star in Sabrina's book.

The group headed out into the brisk October Night air. "Mrs. Wardwell," Sabrina said. "We have a tradition of going to the movies, and then to Doctor Cerberus' to dissect whatever we just saw. Would you like to join us?"

Mrs. Wardwell shook her head. "A very lovely offer, but, I'm afraid that there are papers back at my house that have to be graded. Thank you, but maybe next time."

With a wave of her hand, and a 'see you in class, guys,' their teacher strode off towards her car.

Roz then leaned in towards Sabrina's ear. "Uh, 'Brina? Why would you do that?"

"Invite Mrs. Wardwell? I don't know, I just feel bad for her, living in that house of hers, all alone."

It was a feeling that she could relate to, sometimes...

* * *

As she drove home, Mary Wardwell turned on the radio. A part of her wished she had accepted Sabrina's offer, but she could tell that it had been mostly out of pity.

Oh well.

Still, Adam and Karim would be home in a few weeks, and then, she wouldn't be so lonely anymore.

It had started to rain, but she did her best to ignore that, even though rain brought up a host of unpleasant memories for her... like Aylesbur-

No. That was almost forty years ago. Life had moved on! Needing a distraction, Mary flicked on the radio.

As the radio crackled to life, Mary's eyes lit up in joy. Oh goody, this was one of her favorite songs. It was, after all, impossible not feel better after a hearty sing-along to Credence Clearwater Revival!

_I see a Bad moon rising._

_I see Trouble on the way._

_I see-_

OH FUCK!

Almost out of nowhere, a girl staggered in front of the car! With a strangled noice that seemed like the unholy offspring of a gasp and a scream, Mary quickly swerved out of the girl's way, her foot now all but married to the brake as her car screeched and spun to a dizzying halt.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!"

After taking moment to catch her breath, rub at her eyes, and allow her heart to stop dancing the polka about on the inside of her ribcage, Mary hurriedly unbuckled and all but scrambled out of the car door.

Then, she composed herself, and slowly approached the girl, who was just… standing there, seemingly oblivious to the cold and the gentle night rain.

"Hello?" Mary called out. The girl slowly looked up at her, and then began to approach. "Help me, please," she whispered, in a hoarse voice.

When she stepped into the light of the headlights, Mary eyes widened in shock. The poor thing was covered in dirt, and her dress was torn all over.

What had happened to her? "Oh my god," Mary whispered.

Without another moment of hesitation, Mary gently ushered the poor girl into the back seat, and then she kept on driving. By thunder, if someone had hurt this poor creature, then Mary Wardwell would rain down hell upon them. But only after making sure the poor girl was cleaned up, fed, and saw Dr. Sapperstein first thing tomorrow morning.

It was the right thing to do, after all…

* * *

Sabrina and her friends spent almost an hour at Doctor Cerberus', the local bookstore/ horror store/ diner, laughing and gushing and dissecting the movie they had just seen. Susie and Roz were of the opinion that there was a deeper meaning within the film regarding the Cold War, the collapse of the nuclear family, and Civil rights.

Harvey had been a little confused as to how a zombie film could have such deep levels of social commentary.

Later they had parted ways, with Harvey gallantly offering to escort her home. He was such a gentleman, like that.

She and Harvey laughed and playfully chased each other all the way back to her house. Then, the moment before she reached the stairs, he swept her up in one of his warm, bear-like embraces. Harvey was rather muscular for his age, which, in Sabrina's opinion, made his hugs the absolute best. Then, with a whispered 'got ya,' he carried her to the front steps, set her down, and kissed her, his arms still wrapped about her.

He tasted like popcorn, milkshakes, ice, and mint. It was the best!

For a happy moment, once they broke the kiss, all they did was look into each other's eyes, warm smiles on their faces. "I got you something," Harvey said.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold necklace. It looked so beautiful. Sabrina was at a loss for words.

Harvey then gently clasped it around her neck. Once he was finished, he looked her in the eyes again. "I love you, Sabrina. I was going to wait until your birthday to say that, but, since we maybe can't celebrate together this year, I just thought that…"

"Harvey… I love it," she said, as she bent down for a second kiss. "And you."

A part of her wanted to keep on kissing him until the end of time, but, even for her, that was one heck of a long time to kiss someone, so, reluctantly, she broke it. Still, there was always tomorrow. "Goodnight Harvey," she whispered.

"Goodnight, Sabrina," he whispered back, before he headed off into the night.

After watching him leave, she walked through the two big doors of her house. She just could not keep the smile off her face.

Right now, she just, she just felt like dancing, and, you know what? She was going to dance!

And she did, all the way up the stairs, to her room.

* * *

Once the girl had been cleaned, and then dressed in one of her bathrobes, Mary sat her down at her kitchen table. "Here," Mary said. "I brewed you some tea."

As she had been during the car ride and bath, the girl had not uttered a single word. The poor thing must have been traumatized out of her very wits. Yet, the way that she just stared like that. Despite herself, Mary could not help but find it to be more than just a little creepy. "I, uh, found some yummy almond cookies in the cupboard. You must be famished."

The girl just kept staring. Yep, very very creepy. Mary then cleared her throat. "Uh, won't you tell me your name, or maybe at least what happened to you?"

Silence, and more staring. "Did... did someone attack you?" Mary hesitantly asked, as if afraid to even bring the thought of such a vile act into conscious thinking.

The girl then finally spoke again, and gave a small shake of her head. "No," she whispered, as she took a seat at the table. "The woods did."

The woods? Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Swallowing, Mary took a seat as well. She had feared as much, but she had not wanted to consider the possibility. Everything had been relatively quiet, the last eighteen years. Perhaps, along with Doctor Saperstein, she would have to call London in the morning as well. As much as she was loathe admitting it, John would know what to do, as well as the Association. Still, it was best to see how much the girl knew, at least in as gently and unobtrusive a manor as possible. "Uh… well… you're not from around here, are you?"

The girl shook her head. "I mean, everyone knows about the witch hunts in Salem, but there was one, right here in Greendale. 1692."

The girl seemed interested, so she continued. "Thirteen witches were hung in the forest, and it's said that their angry spirits have the haunted the woods ever since."

"How do you know so much, about witches?" the girl asked.

She would have to approach this delicately. "Well, I am the town's... unofficial historian, you might say. It's always been a personal interest of mine, as well as being something that is intertwined with my family's history..." as she rambled on, under the table, Mary subtly gestured a silent spell on her eyes, so as to let her see what was normally unable to be seen. It was only to see if the girl had suffered any wounds of a non-physical kind, such as scarring on her soul and-

It took all her self-control not to let any emotion show on her face at what she saw. This was not a girl in front of her! Swallowing, she continued to ramble "...plus, I teach at the local school, Baxter High. Uh, go Ravens."

That seemed to get the not-girl's attention. "High school... Is one of your students named... Sabrina?

What? Still keeping her face and tone cordial and unassuming, Mary began to gesture the configuration to another spell, as, under her sleeves, lines of text and turquoise began to quietly glow. "Why... yes. Sabrina Spellman. Um... do you know Sabrina?"

The girl shook her head again. "No, but..." as she continued to speak, the girls voice shifted in tone, and became distorted and unholy, as angry look spewed its way into her brown yes. "...I knew her bastard-a-father, who broke sacred witch law when he lay with a mortal sow, and just as I know you, _heretic_..."

With a final snap, Mary's spell blasted through the table, but the creature had already gone. Mary burst to her feet, her hands up and already cycling through gestures after furious gesture, as she began to chant, the lines under her skin now glowing a bright turquoise;

_"Because I could not stop for Death –_

_He kindly stopped for me –_

_The Carriage held but just Ourselves –_

_And Immortality..."_

At a creak, she whirled around, and blasted a small hole through the wall. Where was the thing? She heard dark laughter echo through the house. Was it Nergal, seeking revenge? Well, by golly, she would not go quietly. She continued to chant and gesture. If she could just make it her car outside, she might have a chance. Luckily, her keys were still in her pocket.

_"We slowly drove – He knew no haste_

_And I had put away_

_My labor and my leisure too,_

_For His Civ-"_

Too late, did she notice the floating scissors, as they sped through the air. With a wet _squelch,_they impaled themselves into her jugular. "A decent bit of entertainment, spell-caster," the not-girl's voice said, as the creature faded into view, a disdainful look on her face. "But, alas, this was no contest."

With the last of her strength, Mary managed a final gesticulation, and blasted the creature point blank in its face with a burst of fire. It did not even flinch, and there was no damage whatsoever.

As Mary collapsed to her knees, hands clasped to her neck in a futile effort to staunch the bleeding, she looked up at her murderer, who was just... staring at her, with a tilted head. "What... are you?" she gurgled out, through a mouthful of blood.

She did not know if the creature answered, for she had then collapsed onto the floor of her cottage with a dull thud, her blood spilling out in a puddle on the floor.

So, Mary Wardwell then died.

She then blinked, and found herself standing... by her own body...

* * *

Lilith looked at the corpse of Mary Wardwell for a moment, and then knelt by the puddle of blood. The woman had put up an amusing bit of resistance, but, as she had stated, there had been no contest.

She began to trace her finger through the woman's blood, as she recited the spell that one used to steal a face, and take a body.

A moment later, and a brief sensation of cold, she was now, in body at least, Mary Wardwell. She flexed her fingers as she examined her new form. Not bad. A little on the declining side of middle age, perhaps, but it would be more than sufficient.

As a bonus, it was quite powerful.

A small smile crossed her lips. "The Great Work begins, Dark Lord," she whispered. "I shall deliver Sabrina unto you."

She then stretched again. The dead woman had mentioned some cookies?

Cookies sounded yummy.

* * *

The spirit of Mary Wardwell, magus, spell-caster, survivor of Aylesbury, former alumnus of Brakebills academy, former Executor for the Magus Association, and now former teacher at Baxter High, watched in horror as the monster wearing her body stood up, and walked into her kitchen.

No, it couldn't end like this! She had to do something! She knew how ghosts functioned, maybe if she just-

"I am sorry, but, there is nothing that you can do, Mrs. Wardwell."

The voice, as deep and smooth as the ocean, pulled her from her terror for a moment. Mary turned to her left, and saw a man standing there, who had not been there before. He was tall and broad, with skin the color of deep chocolate, and he was clad in simple clothes and robes of midnight. Upon his craggy face, however, was an expression of infinite kindness and understanding. Still, Mary was rather frightened. "Wha-, who are you?"

"You know who I am, Mrs. Wardwell. All come to know me, and those like me, when their time upon this World comes to an end."

...Death. "You are death?"

He gave a slight nod. "One of them... I am Anubis."

"The Egyptian God of the dead? But, why are you here?"

He gave her another kind smile. "In Cairo, 1991, when you were traveling, you happened upon a young boy and his dog. They were both castaways of the street, and alone with only each other to lean upon. They were both ill, and not long for this world, and in great pain. Without a moment's thought, you helped them. You took them to a hospital, stayed with them, and gave them hope. You helped the boy to bury his companion. Then, you adopted him without a moment's hesitation, and brought him here, to America. You loved the boy as if he were your own, and gave him a chance to live. He brought with him old tales of the Gods of Egypt, one more soul to help keep our stories alive in this land, and you also helped, to keep those stories fresh in his mind, so that he would never forget the land of his birth. For that, you have my gratitude, Mrs. Wardwell, as well as the gratitude of my brethren, which is why I am the one who has come to take you home."

This... this was an honor, but, still, her fiancé, and her son! "I just wish that there was something I can do. Sabrina's in danger! They all are, and, oh God, Adam, and Karim!"

Anubis just shook his head, in an understanding manner. "The girl known as Sabrina Spellman is a lot stronger than you think." He smiled, and it was a warm thing, full of love, friendship, and understanding. "She'll be fine."

"...I never got to say goodbye to Adam, or to Karim, and that creature..."

Anubis took Mary gently by the shoulder, as the dead woman softly wept. "What I tell you now will probably be of scant comfort to you, but it must be said. Things may not always turn out for the best, initially, but one thing I have learned is that, in some ways, either large or small, they will balance out. The evil that you have suffered tonight, will balance out. Good will always still has a chance. As for your loved ones... they will never forget you, and will live knowing that you loved them as much as they loved you, Mrs. Wardwell. They will be safe. I swear upon the Duat."

Mary nodded, and wiped at her eyes (how odd, that spirits could cry), and then cleared her throat. "All right. I'm ready."

Anubis smiled again, and extended his hand. "Then take my hand, Mary Wardwell."

As she did, a thought sprang into Mary's mind, and she hesitated at the last second. "What is it?" Death asked.

"...Am I going to go to Hell, for what happened at Aylesbury?"

Anubis only answer was another smile, full of love and warmth and comfort, and a slight shake of his head. "Your scales will balance out. Of that, I can assure you."

With that, Mary took his hand. It was oddly warm.

Without another sound, he lead her out the front door, and... into a beautiful desert, framed by a night sky filled with endless stars...

* * *

_She was dreaming, but. like all dreams, it did not feel like a dream. _

_She was standing in a strange place. It looked like an orchard, but all the trees were made of bones, and they were all bare. All, that was, save for one, in the center of the orchard. _

_Half of the massive tree was rotting flesh and bone, and the other was health-looking bark the color of snow. Blood was weeping in small rivers from its branches and trunk. Under her feet, the bones creaked and crunched slightly. _

_She wanted to turn away, but, still, she stepped forward. Another crunch. _

_Then, suddenly, one of the branches extended, like a whip, and coiled and knotted itself tightly around her neck. It dragged her to the ground, and then began to pull her across the ground towards it. No matter how hard she struggled. she could not get free!_

_Then, she was off the ground, and dangling in the air as more roost and branches tangled around her arms and legs, pulling her tight, and down towards an open maw in its trunk. It hurt so much! _

_She couldn't breathe! She couldn't breathe! Flapping things then began to peck at her eyes and mouth and neck and face and over and over and over and they just wouldn't STOP!_

* * *

With a strangled gasp/ scream, Sabrina woke up.

She was sweaty all over, and it hurt to breathe. After coughing a few ties, she managed to regain her breath.

After a few minutes of trying to get back to sleep, she decided to get up for a bit. With a stretch, she rose from her bed, and went to her room's desk. Her hand idly grazed across the picture of her mother and father, and then rose up to her calendar, and her finger shifted towards the 31st. The big day.

Four more days.

Yipp-freaking-ee.

Then, once she put a big black X through the 27th, she looked at her vanity's mirror, out of the corner of her eye...

With horror, she turned for a closer inspection, and looked at her neck's reflection in the mirror. What seemed to be a rope burn was circled around it.

What the hell?

Shivering, Sabrina then decided not to think about it, and went to the window for some fresh air. As she approached it, she saw what looked like a bat, flying in the distance and wait why was it getting closer oh god!

With a small shattering of glass of glass, the bat smashed through one of the panes, and then crashed into the floor, spacing, twitching, and squeaking in pain. Both its wings were shredded.

Slowly, she approached it, reaching for a heavy book on her dresser as she did so. The poor thing was in pain, and it already looked like it was dying.

This would be the... kind thing to do.

Eyes tightly shut, she raised up the book, whispering _'absit omen'_ as she did.

With a release of breath, she slammed the book down on the bat…

She didn't sleep much, for the rest of the night.

* * *

_ Tuesday_

_October 28th_

_Of 2018_

_Which is right now_

After a refreshing bath, Sabrina went down the stairs towards the kitchen, dead bat firmly secured in a shoebox, which she was currently holding in her hands.

It was starting to smell a bit.

As she entered, she was greeted with a most familiar sight; Aunt Zelda, with her customary cigar in hand, while either drinking her morning tea with the other, or reading the morning paper; Cousin Ambrose, lounging about, as always, and reading one of his many, trashy erotic novels (he let her borrow one, every now and again); finally, there was Aunt Hilda, cooking up a yummy smelling storm, as always.

"Good morning aunties, Ambrose."

The younger aunt turned to her, and flashed one of her warm smiles, the act creating a small cascade of smile-wrinkles throughout her full and warm face. "Good morning, darling, how did you sleep?"

Before she could answer, Aunt Zelda did it for her, with a grin, and a mouth full of tobacco smoke. "Quite tempestuously, by the sound of it."

Sabrina simply returned her elder aunt's (who did not look a day over 30, at most) smile with a cheeky grin of her own. "Now that you mentioned it, I did wake up... once or twice. But, I'm fine"

Aunt Hilda looked up from the stove for a moment, worry now over her face. "Are you sure you're alright, dearie? You look like you had a bit of a fright."

"I'm fine, really. Just weird dreams."

Ambrose chuckled. "Oh? Did you wake up all damp and dripping?"

Sabrina slapped his booted foot where it rested on the table, even as she casually massaged her neck with her other. "Ew, and no. If you all must know, it was just some weird dream about a tree that tried to strangle me."

Aunt Zelda _hmm'd _at that, as she inhaled another puff from her cigar, letting the smoke this time exit through her nostrils. It had always been entrancing to Sabrina when she had been a little girl. "A strangling tree? How odd." She then shrugged. "But, ultimately irrelevant. You have more important things to worry about, after all. It's your dark Baptism. In other words, it is the most important day of your life. As such, any restlessness is to be expected. It's probably just nerves, after all."

A dreamy smile then spread across her aunt's lips, as she took another puff. "You know, I remember the week before my Dark Baptism. It felt as if my life, my _real _life, was finally beginning. I could barely sleep a wink, I was so excited."

She then went back to her newspaper, the dreamy smile still on her face.

Aunt Hilda slid a full plate of food in front of Sabrina. It smelled delicious. "Rabbit's feet, under your pillow tonight, and you'll sleep sounder than the dead, cut out my heart and hope to eat it."

The food smelled very yummy. But speaking of the dead...

With a clearing of her throat, Sabrina set the dead-bat-holding shoebox on the kitchen table. "Yeah, um, speaking of the dead, a bat flew into my room last night, and through my window no less."

Ambrose quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, want me to brink it back?"

Zelda flipped down her newspaper, a stern expression now on her face at Ambrose's offer. "As I have stated before, countless times, the will be no necromancy in this house, especially from you, Ambrose. Need I remind you that it is one of the _many_ reasons as to why you are on house arrest?"

He stuck his tongue out at her, before returning to his book. Sabrina cleared her throat again, the rope run, thankfully hidden beneath her shirt collar was really smarting. "Okay, so, then is it alright if I bury it in the garden?"

Hilda rejoined the conversation. "Of course. As you wish. You can bury it in the pet cemetery, if you like, by the sundial. Should be plenty of room still there."

Hilda then set down a full jar of something that made scummy pond-water look like a tasty milkshake. "Uh… what's this?" Sabrina asked.

"Before it can be properly baptized, the temple that is your body must be cleansed and purified of all accumulated toxins and impurities."

"But, there's no need to worry, dear," Hilda said. "It's really just milk and eggs, and there's some rosemary and agrimony, along with a cupful of vanilla and a pinch of John the Conqueror root and... Other herbs from my garden." She then gave a nervous chuckle and ended with a 'drink up, darling,' before suddenly discovering how very interesting the stove was at that moment.

Oh... joy. And Sabrina was going to have to drink this? Hopefully, it would just be once, right?

For the sake of her toilet, Sabrina desperately hoped so. But, from the mocking/ pitying look on Ambrose's face, that was a foolish hope.

Again, oh... joy?

Zelda then set a heavy, leather-bound book in front of Sabrina. "Now, you need to pick a familiar, before your dark baptism. The Council sent the registry. There are a lot, I know, but not to worry, as I have indicated a few suitable options."

Aunt Zelda flipped it open to rows upon rows of neat little antique-looking index cards, each with what seemed to be a carefully hand-drawn picture of various animals. Everything was in there, from sloths to snakes to spiders, and other things.

Aunt Zelda then pointed to one with a smile. "Now there? That is one handsome-looking hedgehog. Or, perhaps you would prefer that noble-looking owl? Of course, Vinegar Tom would absolutely love another dog running around as a playmate." As she said this, Aunt Zelda briefly glanced over at her familiar, the afore mentioned Vinegar Tom, who looked back at his master for a moment with round eyes, then set his head back down, covered his snout with his paws, and went back to sleep.

That was Vinegar Tom, in a nutshell; lazy, not perturbed by much of anything, and usually sleeping. Sabrina had seen him sleep soundly through fires, storms, and even the odd spell-based explosion. One of the times involving fire, he had actually been the one that had been on fire!

Sabrina kept a polite smile as she carefully closed the book. "Right. About that? I was thinking that, just maybe, instead of picking a familiar out of a book (which is _so _dehumanizing, by the way)-"

"Familiars are not actual animals. If you will recall, they are simply goblins that have taken on the shape of animals so as to better serve their witch masters. There really is nothing 'human' about them whatsoever," Aunt Zelda interjected, as if she were explaining basic fractions to a simple child.

"But, I've been practicing a spell I found in the Demonomicon," Sabrina explained, undeterred. "And, well, what if I just put it out there that I'm looking for a familiar, and just see if anyone wants t volunteer?"

"Well, I think that's a charming idea," Aunt Hilda said.

Aunt Zelda seemed ambivalent towards the idea, but, at the same time, seemed content to let it slide. "Now, what about your baptismal name? Have you decided on one yet?" the elder Aunt asked.

Sabrina gave a happy nod. "Yes, I have, as a matter of fact. Edwina Diana."

Though that got a raised eyebrow from Aunt Zelda, Sabrina continued, confident in her choice. "Edwina, which is close to Edward, to honor my father, and Diana, to honor my mother. It's not just to honor them though; its also to be closer to them, to have them with me by my side as I walk the path of Night."

Aunt Hilda had tears in her eyes. "Oh darling... I told myself that I wasn't going to cry, but... I, I just wish that your mum and dad were here to see this, to see you."

"Me too, Auntie." Oh no, now Sabrina felt a little something in the corner of _her _eye.

Aunt Hilda rubbed at her teary eyes. "They would just be so proud of you. They would just be so proud of the young woman that you've become."

"Correction, Hilda," Aunt Zelda interjected. "They would be so proud of the young _witch _that she is becoming."

Yeah... witch.

"Now, then, drink your cleanser," Aunt Zelda said, before inhaling another large lungful of tobacco smoke.

Shit.

Oh well... bottoms up. All Sabrina could hope for was that the memory of its tastes would be so traumatic; that her mind would automatically repress it as it slid down her throat.

* * *

_Later, but a few hours before school, and after inflicting a harsh punishment on one of the house's toilets..._

With a final spadesful of dirt, the bat was firmly buried in the pet cemetery.

Ambrose, who had gallantly volunteered to 'help,' as in just sit on a tombstone, reading and drinking coffee while Sabrina did all the work, as always, gave her a cheeky grin. "Penny dreadful for your thoughts?"

Sabrina stood up, wiping her hands as she did so. "It's just... most people would regard a bat crashing through a window as a bad omen, you know?"

As Ambrose nodded his head in slight understanding, Sabrina continued. "Then, of course, I also found a two-headed frog in my shoe yesterday..."

"Hold a tick," Ambrose said, as he rose from his perch, and set down his coffee and book. "You're not... having doubts, are you? About your big day, your Dark Baptism? Because, back in side with Madam Cain and Madam Abel, you seemed pretty, I don't know, excited?"

"Well, yeah, a part of me is, but, I don't know, another part just feels-"

"Nervous? But that's fine. It's perfectly all right to be a little nervous. I mean, going into the woods in the dead of night, signing your name in the Dark Lord's book... Even I had butterflies in me gut."

They shared a chuckle at that for a moment, before Ambrose's face grew serious. "So, what have you told your little mortal friends? That you're going to be transferred to some posh little boarding school in Connecticut?"

Her silence seemed to give him the answer, and now his face adopted a compassionate bent to it. "Oh, little cousin, you haven't told them?"

She shook her head. "Not yet... I've just been waiting for the right time." With that, she turned on her heel, and headed back to the house, Ambrose following after her.

"But it will never be the _right time_," he called out. "That is why you must rip off this particular Band-Aid as quickly as possible."

"You wouldn't understand, Ambrose. You were born a full witch," Sabrina retorted. "You didn't have to say goodbye to a full half of your life, your friends, your boyfriend."

"True, true, but, afterward, when you're fully a witch, you'll stay younger much longer."

She kept walking. "You'll cultivate your gifts at the Academy of the Unseen Arts, where your father was headmaster."

She kept walking, and he kept on behind her. "You will belong, little cousin, in every sense of the word."

Finally, she stopped walking and turned to look at him. "I know. And I want all of those things, I do, It's just that..." at that moment, all she could do was sigh and shrug. "It's kind of dumb, but... you're only supposed to start missing things after you say goodbye to them, yeah?"

He sighed. "Little cousin, I've been under house arrest with our aunties for the last seventy-five years. Forbidden from leaving these grounds, under pain. Of. Death." He then lightly poked her in her collarbone at each punctuation, and started lightly fiddling with her lapels, like a mother hen. "I am _continuously_ missing everything."

With a final smirk, he strode past her, and back towards the house, leaving Sabrina alone with her thoughts.

Oh well, time to get to school.

* * *

Sabrina had originally planned to stop by the grove, and send out her summoning spell, but had decided to wait until the sun set, and the spirits were more open to frolicking about. SO instead, she decided to make a quick stop by Dr. Cerberus' bookstore. That... cleanser that her aunts had made her drink had, unfortunately, worked a bit too well. Honestly, she had been a little surprised that she had not cracked the bottom of the toilet bowl, having felt like she had voided her entire body weight down the drain.

That had been oh so very fun.

So, there she was, at the horror store/ diner, ordering a water and apple turnover.

As she received her order and sat down to enjoy it, she found her mind wandering towards thoughts about her Baptism, and how she was going to tell her friends, especially Harvey. She actually hoped that a solution would just magically come to her in the next three seconds.

After six seconds, she still had nothing. So, instead of thinking, she looked out the window as she took another bite of her pastry, and saw a car pull up to the store.

The first thing Sabrina noted was that the car was old, but quite well taken care of.

Then, she noted the man who stepped out from the driver's seat.

The man was solidly middle-aged, but in a youthfully lean, yet-muscular sort of way. He was bearded. If his clothes, which consisted of a long coat, vest, shirt, ties, and pants were ragged, then he would not have looked out of place as an elegant-looking homeless bum, but they weren't, so he didn't. Instead, his clothes looked very fine. His hair was long and tied back under a wide-brimmed hat, though it looked like the right side of his head was shaved (like in that Vikings show Harvey had shown her once), and his beard rested between neatly trimmed and unkempt. Over the left side of his face, which, she could tell, had a few scars on it, his hair flowed to his shoulder, partially loose, and partially in a braid, while the rest was bound in a messy wolf's tail that rested at the back of his neck. Upon his head was a wide-brimmed, semi-floppy hat. His skin was somewhat pale, and he wore dark sunglasses.

He looked like a well-dressed veteran, truth be told, or some kind of upper-level mob enforcer.

She watched as this odd man entered the bookstore and took a seat at one of the tables, giving an order as he did so.

He must have caught her staring, because he then slowly swiveled around on his seat, and smirked in her direction, the sunglasses now off his face.

Oh great! Now he probably thought she was some kind of weirdo, and- "There is no need to feel embarrassed, little lady. It is not always so impolite to stare. It is just a sign that you are curious by nature."

Oh, good, he was a nice man.

He looked at her again, with his slightly mismatched eyes. "What might I call you, little lady?"

On the one hand, he was a stranger. On the other hand, something about him seemed… approachable. So, she answered. "Sabrina Spellman. And you?"

He stood up, doffed his cap, and gave her a great and dramatic bow. As he did, she could not help but notice the strange rock embedded over his right temple, as well as the scars over the shaved portion of his scalp. "Lady Spellman, it is an absolute pleasure. Waver Wednesday is my name, and traveling, this country that we call America? Well that is my game. So, I have chosen this fine and magnificent town of Greendale, this little slice of small-town, USA, as a place to rest my weary head, before I continue on my way across this great nation that we also call the United States. Also, as you no doubt can tell, my favorite day of the week is Wednesday, for that is, without a doubt, my day."

She could not help but giggle. He reminded her a bit of Ambrose, whenever he got drunk. The man then rose from his bow and put his cap back on his head, as he looked at her.

"You seem troubled. Is something weighing on your mind, little lady? If so, then that must be remedied immediately, for it does my heart great pain to see a lady in such turmoil and distress!" He then grabbed his milkshake, walked over, sat across from her, and set his untouched milkshake down in front of her. "Have a sip? You'll feel much better, cross my heart and hope to die."

Okay, now this was getting a little weird. Who else but weirdoes and perverts acted this way towards a teenager? He must have seen the look on her face because his left eyebrow raised a bit. "I offer you the worm from my beak, and you look at me like I fucked your mom?"

Oh, wow! That was direct. "No, no, nooo. It's just… well, you are a stranger, and I am a teenage girl, and these things always seem to have the same horrible ending, and I am sorry, I just have a lot on my mind..." Screw it. She took a long sip of the milkshake. It tasted good. Chocolate was a good flavor and-

"It's your dark baptism, isn't it?"

She nearly choked on the sip of her milkshake at that statement. He proceeded to slap her upon her back until she could breathe properly. "Oh, my dear, I must absolutely apologize for startling you like that."

"Wait…" She took a deep breath from her now cleared airway and looked at him. "You're a warlock?"

He waved his gloved hand in a _so-so _manner. "Of a somewhat sort. My main focus is that of charms and runes, though I do enjoy doing coin tricks as well. But that is not important. Why do you not wish to go through with your baptism?"

Sabrina shrugged. "It's just... I don't feel like I have much of a choice in it, y'know?"

"Choice is always very important, my dear. It is the one real thing that sets us apart from the animals, except for pettiness. Though, in all honesty, all this hoopla and mystery you put into your "Church of the Night" is nothing short of baffling to me. There are other ways to learn magic, you know."

Wait, really? "Really?"

"But of course. Honestly, if the only way to learn magic was to pledge your soul to a fallen angel with monumental father issues, then there would just not be any point to it, would there? All the mystique would just vanish into the ether like a puff of cheap smoke."

"I… I guess that makes sense." Why had this never occurred to her before? "Wait, so, you're not a member of the Church of Night?"

"Not really. I simply chose to walk a different path, learned a variety of different methods, and was just lucky enough to barely slip under the radar of the fanatics of the church (and pardon me if that has offended you)."

Should she even be talking to him? He was a confessed heretic, after all. But, there was just something... disarming about him, like you could trust him fully. Plus, despite his appearance, he seemed harmless. "How did you do it?"

Instead of answering, he smiled, waved his hand, and then a shiny silver dollar coin appeared between his fingers. Entranced, she watched as he made it dance along his fingers, over and under his knuckles, reflecting the sunlight and indoor light as it flipped in dance.

He made it vanish and reappear, and, despite herself, she felt a bit entranced. "Coin tricks are always both the most deceptively simple, and also most deceptively challenging, bits of magic to master, I have found. Now, as for how I learned magic without the baptism?" He tapped the side of his nose. "That... is a story for another time."

She felt little miffed at his refusal to tell her but decided not to push it. Then, he flipped the coin into her hands, though she nearly dropped it in surprise. It felt cool to the touch, but in a comforting sort of way. "For good luck," he said, "and maybe if you want to practice." He then looked at his watch. "Oh dear. Come, come, let me drive you to your school. A girl should not have to walk alone, even in broad daylight. This is America, after all."

A part of her thought that she should refuse, but, well, he seemed nice so far, and there was that part of Sabrina that still liked to believe in the best in people...

* * *

It was a very nice car, and thought about how Harvey would like to look at it. "This is a very nice car," she said.

"Thank you," Mr. Wednesday replied, as he gave dashboard an affectionate pat. "Dear Betty here has been by my side for many years, and through many things. Nowhere else will you find a more reliable means of transportation."

"You named your car Betty?"

"But of course. All grand things, be they weapons, ideas, or vehicles, deserve a name. It makes them more real, and more grand."

Sabrina supposed that made sense, and the rest of the drive was spent in relative silence, save for when she pointed out where to turn, and such.

* * *

Luckily, she made it to school with some time to spare, and sat down in her first period class, history, which she shared with Harvey and Roz. She flashed them both a smile as she sat down. She heard some of the other students in the class gossiping about how they were getting a new history teacher, after the previous one had decided to take an early retirement, for some reason.

Then, as the door, opened, the class quieted, and in walked...

Mr. Wednesday?

He was the new teacher?

The man flashed everyone a friendly smile, and then took a seat. His hat was still on his head.

He then started to speak. "Greetings class. As Waver Wednesday, many know me, and I am to be your new history teacher, at least until a permanent replacement can be acquired for this fine institution of learning. Now to you, I may become known by a few other names in the coming months; 'Mr. Wednesday,' 'jackass,' 'Windbag,' or 'Waver,' to name a few, at least depending on the grades that I shall hand out to you."

That earned him a bit of laughter. "Together, we shall traverse the halls and mists of history in all corners of the globe, and yes, that does include Canada."

He smiled. "I think this is going to be a fun journey. Also, if any one of you is caught texting or goofing off while class is in session, then I will make you smash your phones with this hammer."

He then reached down,and set on his desk a mallet.

He smiled again. "Any questions?"

There were none, even though Sabrina had quite a few. "Good," Mr. Wednesday said. "Now, open your textbooks, and let us begin..."

* * *

The rest of the morning classes progressed without much fanfare, though Mr. Wednesday's lessons had been, for alack of a better term, enthralling. Then, he had ended class by shaking everyone's hands in greeting as they left.

The final class before lunch was gym class. After a long hour of dodge ball and PE, Sabrina headed for the showers, but only after making sure she was the last one left. She did not want any to see the rope burn around her neck after all.

As she turned the water off, and headed to her locker, with a towel wrapped firmly around her torso, Sabrina heard... crying?

As she turned a corner, she saw Susie, whimpering and quietly sobbing into her locker.

"Susie? Susie, what happened?"

Susie sniffed, and then answered. "They... they pulled up my shirt. They were laughing, and they pulled up my shirt."

She then slammed her locker door shut and turned to fully face Sabrina, revealing her torn and bloody lip.

"Who did?" Sabrina asked, doing her best not to let any anger show on her face...

* * *

_Later, after one very unfruitful and unhelpful conversation with an asshole by the name of Hawthorne, _

_and then a slightly creepy, but more helpful conversation with Mrs. Wardwell (who had her hair down, and was showing off her arms!)..._

"The football players are a symptom, like a cold sore, or a rash, but the disease goes much deeper, straight into the very bedrock of this school," Sabrina explained to Roz and Harvey, as they headed out to the outdoor lunch tables. "So, that's where we fight it, with a club. For young women, so that they can meet and help to bolster each other, and where we can discuss issues and problems that we are facing, and then come up with prospective solutions."

"You mean... like a club to topple the white patriarchy?" Roz asked, as the three each took out their lunch.

"Exactly," Sabrina replied, happy that Roz understood. "To mobilize and protest if we need to get political, to fight when we need to fight, to defend each other. So Susie never feels alone, so none of us do."

"Yeah, but Hawthorne might block this. Remember how he vetoed my request to start a Daughters of the Black Panthers movement last year?" Roz said, as she spread sanitizer on her hands.

"Yep... But, I may have a plan for getting this through without the interference of Haughty Hawthorne. I just need to do it fast."

That seemed to perk Roz's interest. "How fast?"

"Preferably before Friday."

Roz then gained a knowing look in her eyes. Gosh darn it, she caught on. "Just in time for your birthday, right?"

"...Yes, but remember, we're not making a big deal about that this year."

"But it is a big deal," Roz argued. "It's your sweet sixteen, and on Halloween. There's even going to be an eclipse. For crying out loud, that kind of alignment is just screaming out for a party. Harvey, back me up."

Oddly enough, Harvey was very quiet. "Harvey?"

They then noticed that Harvey had been quiet the entire time. She and Roz turned and saw that his head was lying in the crook of his arms on the table. He was... asleep? Concerned, Sabrina reached across to gently shake him. "Harvey-"

With a gasp, he shot up, and for a moment, there was a frightened look in his eyes. Then, it was gone, and he wearily blinked. "Huh, oh sorry... must have dozed off. Just really tired..."

That was concerning. "Harvey... is everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's fine. Just... didn't get a lot of sleep last night... Just weird dreams lately. Nothing to worry about though. So, you had a way to get back at Hawthorne?"

So, on they discussed, among other things, the formation of the 'Lady Hawks...'

* * *

Lilith sat on the floor, looking at the tiny red sweater in her hand. The heretic Mary had certainly been an excellent knitter she had to admit. A bit of a pathetic hobby, though.

An insistent cawing caught her attention, and she raised her head to saw a familiar and old friend, perched upon the open window sill of Mary Wardell's office. It was a large black crow, and a most familiar one at that. The sight of the creature brought a smile to Lilith's stolen lips. "Ah, Stolas. My most faithful familiar, and factotum. It is good to see you again."

Stolas cawed in reply, and then preened under her compliments. It made her chuckle. "Our Dark Lord is most wise, my old friend and companion. He senses Sabrina's attachment to the mortal world, and, thus, has sent us to see that his Will is carried out."

She examined the tiny sweater in her hand, so very much like the one the half-breed was wearing. "And see to it, we shall-"

A sudden knock at her door made her drop the sweater in surprise. A moment later, the knock came again. With a wordless gesture to Stolas that sent him flapping away, Lilith got to her feet, and answered the door.

To her surprise, it was the new history teacher. He looked like a ragged war veteran/ vagabond in nice clothes, and he flashed her a grin. "Hello... Mrs. Wardwell? I'm Waver Wednesday, the new interim history teacher, and I was just stopping by to introduce myself to the rest of this school's faculty. I hope that we can become friends, in the coming months, as one shaper of bright young minds, to another."

He then actually bowed. Who in this day and age actually bowed? Still, best not to draw suspicion. With a partially raised eyebrow, Lilith spoke. "It's... a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wednesday."

Being polite, she extended her hand. With another grin, he took it in his gloved hand and... Kissed it. "The pleasure, oh Lady, is mine."

He then rose and looked around a bit. "Awfully dark in here, though? How can you see anything, in all of this darkness hanging about you?"

He was very odd indeed. "I'm... used to the dark."

He chuckled, as if she were actually joking. "Are we not all, just a bit?" He then clapped his hands together, and flashed a final grin. "Well, like I have said, I do hope that we can be friends in the coming days. Good day, Mrs. Wardwell." Then, he turned and left.

A very odd man indeed. Perhaps, she should keep an eye on him. Also, Wednesday? What an odd name.

Oh well, she had work to do.

* * *

Hilda was currently busying herself with tidying up the house's business office. Zelda always seemed to leave the place such a mess, especially with all her cigars.

Suddenly, the phone rang. After a single ring, Hilda picked it up and held the receiver to her ear. "Spellman Sister's Mortuary, how may I assist you?"

When she received the answer, Hilda felt her face drop out of shock and pity. "Oh... oh dear."

Well, Zelda would want to know. "Thank you, well, you can drop by today, if you like. Then, we can discuss the finer details upon arrival. Thank you, and again, my condolences."

Click.

* * *

Ah, such a lovely afternoon. The sky was overcast with grey clouds (like always), a mist seemed to stick to the skin, and a fresh cigar was smoldering in her hand. To the elegant mind of Zelda Spellman, it was perfect.

Then came the sound of Hilda's heavy footsteps. Oh, great.

Without even looking up from her newspaper (it seemed the FS corporation had a few new products out) Zelda made an inquiry. "Yes? What is it, Hilda?" She asked, as she puffed at her cigar (Which were delivered weekly from an old friend in New Orleans).

"A young man has just been attacked," she said. "Apparently mauled to death, by some wild animal. His mother and father are coming to see us, the poor, poor dears."

... Was that it?

Zelda lowered her paper and stared at her sister through the lens of her sunglasses. Then, Zelda had a thought over what Hilda had just told her, and it made her chuckle. "Well, Praise Satan."

At Hilda's confused face, Zelda decided to ask an important question. "So, do the parents want an open casket, or a closed one?"

Hilda's chubby face adopted a baffled look. "Uh.. we didn't exactly get that far, Zelda. Their son had just been mauled, to death."

Honestly, why did her little sister always get so hung up on these little things? So, Zelda shrugged. "Well, even if we can't use his flesh, we will still need blood for Sabrina's baptism. Plus, human blood has always been very preferable, and so, it seems to me that the timing of this little tragedy could not be more fortuitous. Hellishly so, in fact."

With another chuckle, Zelda took a puff from her cigar, as her little sister waddled away, muttering to herself.

* * *

_Later_

About an hour later, the young man's parents showed up. Hilda and Zelda took them to the houses' business office, where they would then implement their famous approach. Namely, once Hilda had made them comfortable and primed and off-guard with her, _ugh_, empathy and other such bullshit, then Zelda would swoop in, and get a good price for the casket, body preparation, and burial.

It was quite fun.

"We are so sorry for your loss, Mr. and Mrs. Kemper," Hilda said to the grieving couple. "My sister and I will everything we can to make it as painless as possible."

After a moment, Mrs. Kemper spoke first. "We couldn't have children, so we had to adopt Connor."

"Oh," was all Hilda could say. It was all Zelda could do to keep a straight face, and not roll her eyes. Honestly, why did Mortals always get so hung up on these things?

The grieving mother then handed Hilda a small photograph of the dead man. "Could you... could you just, be gentle with him. Make him look like that, how he used to?"

Hilda looked at the photograph. He had been a handsome lad. "We... we will certainly do our best."

* * *

_Meanwhile_

Hand-in-hand, Harvey and Sabrina walked home. It was a nice feeling, his hand in hers. Like something that was just... perfect.

She looked at him as they walked. He still looked tired, but, he seemed to be getting better as the day progressed. Sabrina was sure that whatever was bothering him, it would not last, though he was still yawning every so often.

"So, about your party, 'Brina, I know you have this super mysterious thing with your aunts that you're not allowed to talk about, but... are you absolutely one hundred percent that I can't convince you otherwise?"

He slipped his arm around hers. "It could just be the two of us, watching the eclipse together, waiting for it to get dark."

That really sounded like a dream. "Harvey, that sounds like a dream. But... this thing I have with my aunts, it's... it's kind of an obligation."

Harvey sighed. "And you really can't tell us, tell me, anything about it at all?"

"Only that it's very important... to my aunts... and to me."

"Okay, but... what's so important that you're gonna have to miss your birthday for it?"

Maybe... maybe she should tell him, but how to go about this? That was the problem. Hmm, perhaps best to approach it slowly. "It's not so much about my birthday," Sabrina said. "It's... more about what comes after."

He raised an eyebrow at that. "That... that sounds a bit ominous."

They then stopped walking, and she gently touched his arms. Here it goes. "I'm moving, Harvey."

Despite the look on his face, she sighed and continued. "I'm leaving Baxter High, and going to a boarding school in Connecticut."

He now looked confused. Paired with the circles on his eyes, it just made him look a bit depressed, and it made Sabrina's heart feel even heavier. "...What?" he finally asked. "Are you being serious?"

Sabrina nodded. "My Aunts are dropping me off, this Friday."

"What the hell are you talking about, Sabrina?"

This was really getting hard. "I'm talking about this amazing opportunity that I... I just can't say no to."

He did not look convinced. 'So amazing that you've never mentioned it to me? Or to Roz? Or to Susie?"

"I just didn't want to freak you guys out."

"Okay, so what? You were just going to leave, ad without saying goodbye?"

What? "No, of course not."

"Well, okay... so what school? What's its name?"

Oh boy. "Um... well, its..." why was this so hard? "Sorry, I'm blanking."

He was starting to looks skeptical. "Really? You're 'blanking?'"

"It's on the tip of my brain, honest."

Harvey shook his head. "Honestly. Sabrina, I hate to say it, but this all seems kind of shady. It's almost like..."

"What?"

He shrugged. "I dunno... like you're hiding something for me..." he then gently took her hands in his big warm ones. She almost hated how nice it felt. "And that is something which you don't ever have to do."

They locked eyes. "You know that, right?" he asked.

Hesitantly, she nodded. "No, of course I know that."

A hopeful smile made its way across his lips. "So then, you can just... tell me the truth. Whatever it is, I swear that it'll be fine. After all, there's nothing that we can't handle, just as long as we are being honest with each other."

She looked deep into his eyes. Sometimes, she felt like he was just too good for her, and this was one of those times. "Harvey..."

He smiled again. "Its okay, Sabrina. You can tell me."

Screw it. She sighed and took the plunge. "I'm a witch, Harvey."

"...What?"

"I'm a witch, Harvey. Me, my aunts, and my cousin Ambrose. We are all witches. We cast spells, make potions, and all other things. Though, to be more specific, I'm half-witch, on my father's side. He was a warlock."

At first, he seemed to think that she was kidding, as a half-hearted smirk tried to creep across his lips. Then... he must have realized that she was being honest, and the half-smirk vanished.

She continued on and pointed down the road. "Out there, deeper in the forest, there is a small clearing, a grove, with a moss-rotted stump in its center. I often go there when I want to feel better, and when I'm not with you or Roz or Susie. In fact, it's actually the place where I was born, sixteen years ago, on October 31st, 2002. Not in Greendale General, but there, in that grove."

Harvey said nothing, though there was an interested look in his eye, so she continued. "And... it is where I will be reborn this Friday night."

"Reborn? What do you mean, reborn how?"

Oh boy. Here came the hard part. "Yep. On my sixteenth birthday, at the stroke of midnight, under an eclipsing blood moon, there will be a ceremony called a Dark Baptism, and all the witches of Greendale will attend it..." His eyes began to widen at that, which quickly made her raise her hand in an attempt o mollify his concerns. "B-but it's not as bad as it sounds. It's... kind of like when we went to Shosanna Feldman's bat Mitzvah, or like with Guadalupe Lopez's quinceanera. It is just the witch's way of... leaving one's girlhood behind."

He slowly nodded his head. "Okay, so... there are other witches, living in Greendale?"

"Yes. Remember Mrs. Wardwell's little bits of info that she would tell us before class started, at the beginning of the year, about Ye Olde Greendale, how, even though we had witch trials here, like in Salem, no one's ever written about them, or still talk about them?"

"Uh, hazily, yeah, so?"

"That's because the witches didn't want anyone to know. It was so that the coven could keep living here, in our sleepy little town, privately, and undisturbed through the centuries."

All he just did was nod again. "Okay, okay... so, what happens after this Friday."

Now came the really hard part. "After this Friday, when I sign my name in the Dark Lord's book, I'll have to leave Greendale High and go to the Academy of the Unseen Arts... and renounce all any and all meaningful connections to mortals."

There, she said it. With a tear running down her cheek, she closed her eyes, and just waited for him to either explode in anger, or recoil in fear.

Instead, he just said... nothing. He was just studying her face, a wave of unnamable emotions cycling through.

"Harvey?"

He was silent for a long moment, and then looked her in the eyes. "Will you still be you, after this 'dark baptism?'"

She shrugged. "I... I think so."

He slowly took her hands in his and swallowed. "Then... I don't really see what the problem is."

...

...

Huh?

The confusion must have been apparent on her face, and so he continued. "I'm not going to pretend that what you just told me hasn't flipped my worldview upside down and over a bit... but I don't think that it matters. You're Sabrina Spellman, the girl that I love. From what you told me about your parents, they loved each other very much, and, well, if they found a way to make it work, then... then maybe we can too... if you want to."

He then gave her a small smile and a chuckle. "Besides... being a witch, and casting spells... it all sounds really cool, like something out of a comic book."

Tears of relief in her eyes, she grabbed him by his cheeks and kissed him, and he kissed her back, his arms wrapped securely and tight around her. What had she been worried about? It was fine. Everything was-

The sudden beeping of a car horn made them both feel like they jumped almost ten feet in the air. However, she had not yelped, because yelping was something she did not do, because she was not the type of person that yelps! To her and Harvey's Surprise, it was Mr. Wednesday.

"Excuse me," Mr. Wednesday said, as he stuck his grinning head out of Betty's window, his dark sunglasses hiding his eyes. Had he been there the whole time? "I hate to interrupt this most touching of young lover's dialogues, but would either of you like a ride to your respective dwellings? I was just driving along, and saw you two have your little tete-a-tete, and grew concerned. Despite being a newcomer to this charming little town, I have heard some rather frightening rumors surrounding these charming woods, and so just grew very concerned for the wellbeing of you two."

...Okay. This was a bit weird. But, right now, Sabrina felt too relieved to really care.

He then honked the car horn again. "So, what do you say? Either of you care for a lift?"

Sabrina looked at Harvey. They both then shrugged. "Sure," Sabrina said. "That would be nice."

The interior of the car was still nice, and it drew a few appreciative glances from Harvey as well. Once they were safely buckled, Mr. Wednesday started the engine, and then looked over his shoulder towards them. "So, who would like to be dropped off first?"

* * *

When they got to the house, Ambrose was there, lounging on the front porch, fiddling away on his laptop, covered with his usual assortment of European rock and punk bands.

Mr. Wednesday insisted on getting the door for her. She had to admit; he did act very much like a gentleman. It was weird, in a good, funny sort of way.

Upon noticing the teacher, Ambrose closed his laptop and straightened up from where he was seated. "Who are you?" Ambrose asked, his stance relaxed yet wary.

Mr. Wednesday held up his hands in a mollifying gesture. "Not to worry, good sir. No ill intentions were on my mind, towards the young Sabrina. I am her new history teacher, Waver Wednesday, and I was simply escorting your good cousin and her dear friend here to their respective homes, and now that she is safe within the grounds of this most magnificent estate, we shall take our leave." He actually bowed to Ambrose. "A good day to you, good and fine sir, and give this young lady's aunts my regards."

Sabrina gave Harvey a kiss goodbye. 'See you tomorrow. We can talk more about it if you want."

They both watched him drive away, with Harvey waving goodbye. "Hmm... Not bad on the eyes, I will admit."

"Yeah. That''s Mr. Wednesday, the new history teacher. He's kind of... different, but he seems cool." For reasons that she definitely could not tell Ambrose about.

He then looked towards Sabrina, and the small smile on her lips. "So? You look like a child on the first day of Solstice. What happened?"

"I told him, Ambrose. I told Harvey."

He cocked his head. "And?"

"He's okay with it! He's super fine with it! It did not frighten him off whatsoever."

Ambrose managed a small smile, but, at the same time, did not look convinced. But, he did not press the issue, save for the look of disbelief and pity on his face. "Right," he said. "Anything else?"

"Actually, yes. I was hoping that you could help me with a spell later, to help deal with my asshole of a principal."

That made him smirk, and obviously get the wrong idea, so she explained the righteous reason for doing so. "It's not what you think. Its just so that I can set up a club at school before the Baptism."

"What sort of club?"

"The sort of club that will protect Susie, and all the other girls."

That made the smirk leave Ambrose's face, and he nodded in understanding. "If I can't stay with them," Sabrina continued, "then at least I can just do this one thing."

For a moment, Ambrose didn't say anything, and then, he grinned and shrugged. "My grimoire is your grimoire. Just out of curiosity, what time will this spell-casting of ours take place," he asked, as he looked about in a conspiratorial manner.

Sabrina honestly hadn't thought of that, so she said the first thing off the top of her head. "Midnight...ish?"

"Ooh, the witching hour? Very spooky." He then winked. "I'll have the candles ready."

That made Sabrina smile, as she walked up the stairs, and then she paused. "Then, afterward, I think I'll cast the searching spell, for a familiar."

"Suit yourself," he said, as he went back to browsing through his laptop.

* * *

Harvey's mind was abuzz with everything that Sabrina had told him, about the witches, and the baptism, and why she would have to leave, after Friday.

It... was a lot to take in. He had meant what he told her, that was the truth, but... still. It was a lot.

"Are you alright, my boy? You seem troubled," Mr. Wednesday said.

"Hmm.. oh, it's nothing, it's just... stuff."

"I see, and would that stuff include your delightful young lady telling you about her upcoming Dark Baptism?"

Harvey's head shot up at that statement. Before he could say anything, perhaps voice a denial, Mr. Wednesday held up his right hand. Glowing turquoise lines lit up through his sleeve and a small ball of flame began to hover over his fingertips. Harvey watched it, entranced, as the small orb of fire swirled and danced about, before vanishing in a puff of smoke.

Then, Mr. Wednesday pulled the car over by the side of the road, and turned to look at Harvey, a serious and somber expression on his face.

"My boy, I applaud you for have the courage and mental fortitude to stick by her. She will need it, for what comes next, as the Path of Night is not an easy road to travel, should she decide to take it. So, all that you need to do, is just be there for her, both when she needs it, and when she thinks she does not. Show her every day that you care. Think you can do that, Mr. Kinkle?"

Harvey found himself nodding. It felt odd, talking about this to a complete stranger, but, there was just something about the man that seemed... trustworthy. "I think so. I really love her, but, it's just... a lot to take in, you know, like someone taking a blindfold off your eyes, and you get blinded by the sun. Plus, after what she told me... I'm just worried for her now."

Mr. Wednesday nodded in understanding. "Oh, but of course my boy. It would be a lot for anybody to take in, mortal, witch, or otherwise. But, not to worry, as that young girl is a lot stronger than she lets on, but you already know that, don't you?"

Harvey could not help but let a small smile grace his lips at that. "Yep... she's is really strong. Been like that ever since we were little."

"Very good to know. In fact, that is the most excellent. As such, if you ever feel the need to know more about the world of Night, don't hesitate to come find me during school hours, and I will do my best to educate you on all its myriad wonders and dangers, if you so choose. Now then, I believe that we have tarried here on the side of the road long enough. Would you mind terribly giving me directions to your abode?"

Though Harvey was reluctant to go home, as always, given the fact that his father was no doubt already six degrees from drunk, he gave Mr. Wednesday the directions.

As the history teacher started up the car again, he spoke once more. "Also, try and get some sleep. You look terrible."

Yeah... that would probably be more difficult.

Stupid bad dreams.

* * *

_Later that night_

Later that night, Sabrina had felt like taking a nice long soak, as a way of unwinding from the day. As she rubbed at the rope-burn on her neck (which she still had not shown her aunts), and sat there, in the tub, she let the warmth of the water wash away her worries and thoughts, and she just began to drift, and her eyelids felt oh so heavy...

* * *

_When she opens them, it is not to the sounds of a house, but to the sounds of night-time crickets and cicadas, and a cool night breeze running across her bare flesh. _

_She looks about, and realizes, to her shock, that she is in the forest._

_This has to be another dream, right?_

_Then, over the sound of the night, comes another sound, one that pierces through everything; the sound of an infant crying._

_She turns to her right, where the crying seems to be coming from... Sabrina's eyes widen in shock._

_It is her parents, Edward and Diana Spellman, just as she remembers them, and they are dressed just like in the photograph that sits on her dresser. _

_They look at her, those specters. In Diana's arms rests a baby, the source of the cries. Is that supposed to be her?_

_They then turn, and walk deeper into the forest, even as she calls out to them. So, up she rises from the bathtub, to follow them, ignoring the brambles and pines that sting and collect upon her bare feet, and how the bathwater chills and dries upon her skin. _

_She ignores all of that and follows them._

_Eventually, they come to a stop, far ahead of her. A multitude of questions tumble from her lips. Will they be coming to her Dark Baptism? Are they pleased that she has taken their names? So many questions, and, through it all, they remain quiet. _

_As quiet as the grave._

_Then, they stand aside. There is an altar, and upon it rests... four infants, each crying and wailing, but none are being held._

_They are four little girls, and all identical. _

_She lifts the bottom of the blanket._

_The baby on the right has normal feet; the one in the middle-right has... scaled paws, like a wolf; the one in the middle left, its feet were shining, and the one on the left... has feet that are nothing but bones and rotting flesh._

_Then, she hears a hiss. _

_Behind her... is a large serpent, with scales of fire and crimson and blood and gold, with seven discolorations over its scaled lips, through which a long, forked tongue tastes the air. She is transfixed, too horrified to move, and she finds herself being drawn deeper into its golden eyes._

_With a final hiss, the fiery serpent rears up, and strikes at her!_

* * *

With a strangled gasp, Sabrina shot up in the tub in a spray of water, the sound of her beating heart ringing in her ears like the sound of thunder. Then, through her gasps, she looked at the clock. It showed five minutes to midnight.

Right, so the bath was done.

Once she had dried off and was dressed in a comfy set of pajamas and a nice, fluffy robe, she headed upstairs to Ambrose's room, the picture of Principal Hawthorne in hand.

As he lounged on his bed, he took hold of the photo and peered at it. Then, he looked at her. "I hope you don't mind me saying, but this isn't like you, cousin, using witchcraft to settle little, personal vendettas."

Sabrina would not be deterred. "These are desperate times, Ambrose."

Instead of raising another protest, Ambrose simply nodded. Despite his eccentricities, he was reliable when it mattered. "Now remember, I don't want to kill Principal Hawthorne. All I need is just to give him a really good scare," Sabrina explained. "Mrs. Wardwell told me that he's pants-wetting afraid of spiders."

Ambrose snickered. "Well, that's easy then, and fortuitous, as Aunt Hilda keeps a bunch of the little things as her familiars. Follow me."

A bit later, they came back into the room, with each carrying a large, ornate, glass box. Inside each of the boxes were dozens of spiders, both large and small, or at least, goblins in the shape of spiders both large and small. Sometimes, it seemed like Aunt Hilda preferred quantity over quality.

As Ambrose slowly unlocked the lid on his box, he held up Hawthorne's yearbook photo. "Are you absolutely sure that you don't want to kill him? Because I have a perfect spell for that. It would be quick and relatively painless."

Sabrina shook her head adamantly. "I already told you, no. I just need him to take a day or two off from school. That's all. No killing."

"Right, because mild traumatization is so very much more humane,' Ambrose snarked.

Then, without another word, he opened the lid and dropped the picture inside, where the spiders quickly surrounded it. As he closed the lid, and the spiders began to slowly move about it, Ambrose started to chant.

"_Spider,_

_O Spider,_

_Pray why do you spin,_

_Your pretty white web,_

_So fine and so thin..._

* * *

After they had finished the spell, which Ambrose assured her had worked, Sabrina, feeling too restless to sleep, wandered about the house for a bit, before going back to her room. Seeing as she had nothing better to do, she decided to cast the Familiar spell from the Demonomicon.

Fro her dresser, she took a small handbell and gave it a ring, the sound echoing through her room as clear as crystal.

_"Spirits of the Night and the Wild,_

_I pronounce my intentions to thee._

_Come forth, seek me,_

_and equals we will be."_

She then gave the little bell a second ring.

_"Not master and Servant, _

_But Familiar to Familiar,_

_to share our knowledge,_

_our spirit,_

_and our traits."_

She rang the bell a third and final time.

Now, all she had to do was wait-

_Crash!_

Suddenly, something crashed through the room's window, again, and the lights flickered off, just for a second, though, not so much crashed as somehow shoved it open.

Seriously, what was it with her window that made things want to break it? Still, had the summoning worked? Something had just gotten in, too fast for the mortal eye to see. With a sigh, she went over to close the window-

_Sabrina._

With a gasp, she turned around. She saw nothing. "Who- who are you?" she asked, to the seemingly empty room. "Show your self." She would not be afraid.

_I heard you call, just now. I was intrigued, and so... I came. I hope that you will accept little old me as your familiar. I promise that I'll behave._

The voice was coming from behind the dresser. Slowly, she edged towards it. "Show yourself," she said, again.

_All right. As you wish. "_Fou!"

What emerged from behind the dresser was... a... Well, she was not really sure what it was.

It was, in all honesty, kind of a strange-looking thing, with white fur that looked like pink-tinged petals, two long and big rabbit-like ears, a huge and fluffy tail, like a squirrel's, two big purple eyes, and, oddly enough, a small cape around its neck.

To Sabrina's eyes, he looked absolutely adorable. "Such a pretty little thing" she cooed, as she gathered him in her arms.

_Thank you, pretty girl_, he replied, as he snuggled in her embrace. Then, he made a cute little sound. "Fou!"

"So, what's your name?" she asked, as she held him in his arms.

Somehow, he shrugged, even though it was probably not possible for a cat-dog-squirrel-thing to shrug. _Oh, we familiars don't really have names like you witches and mortals do. Never saw the point in them, really. So, I think you'll just have to give me one._

Sabrina thought for a moment. "How about Salem?"

He seemed to mull it over for a moment. _Salem... hmm, short, sweet, rolls off the tongue. I think I like it. _

She smiled, so wide that it felt as if her mouth would fall off. "Welcome to the family, Salem."

_Thanks, I promise not to misbehave... unless you tell me to. _

* * *

_Wednesday, October 29th_

_Two days left._

Sabrina was not wearing another turtleneck, but, thankfully, she had put some concealer on her neck.

Today's breakfast consisted of fried ham, toast with butter and jam, fruit, milk, and... More cleanser.

Hadn't the poor toilet suffered enough yesterday?!

"Drink up darling," Aunt Hilda said, as she set the jar in front of Sabrina. "I put a bit of cinnamon in it today."

"And why did you name him _Salem_, of all things?" Aunt Zelda asked, incredulously, puffing away on a cigar as she peeled a hard-boiled egg, all the while eyeing Salem, who, over the rim of his new bowl, was eying her back with strong intent in his purple eyes. "Also, what exactly is he supposed to be?"

She and Hilda had been very proud of Sabrina for getting a familiar, at least until she had told them Salem's new name.

"I don't know. It was the first thing I thought of," Sabrina admitted, a bit sheepishly as she buttered her toast. Still, not like it was her fault that the words 'Salem,' and 'witchcraft,' had bad vibes when spoken in the same sentence.

"Well, at least you have your familiar now, and you're purifying yourself,' Aunt Hilda pointed out, somewhat sheepishly. "Yep, you're almost ready for your Baptism."

In her pocket, Sabrina felt the coin that Mr. Wednesday had given her. It felt both heavy, and light. She let out a breath. "About that... so, I'm in the middle of getting this club started at school.

"A club? And what sort of club would this be?" Aunt Zelda asked, looking up from her egg, as she set her cigar down onto an ashtray.

"It's a club for women, to protect women. Y'know, kind of like a coven."

So far so good. So, she continued. "As such, I was just wondering if, just maybe, we could... postpone my baptism, just a little bit?"

That really caught Aunt Zelda and Aunt Hilda's attention. "Postpone it!?" "Oh, dear."

On the counter, Ambrose just smirked.

Aunt Zelda put down her egg, and looked Sabrina straight in the eye, like how she used to do when Sabrina had been little, and she had misbehaved. "Sabrina. you cannot postpone your sixteenth birthday, and especially not when it falls on the same night as the eclipsing of a blood moon, which, need I remind you, only occurs once every sixty-six years?"

Aunt Hilda then decided to join the conversation. "Listen, dearie, if it's just about a club-"

"It's not, Aunt Hilda," Sabrina gently interjected. In her pocket, the coin felt warm. "There's also the Harvey of it all. We recently took things to the next level."

That really caught her aunt's attention. "He hasn't defiled you, has he?" Aunt Zelda asked, point-blank.

What? Ew, no. Even Ambrose looked shocked at that question. Still, Aunt Zelda continued. "As you already know, I hope, witch law expressly forbids novitiates from being anything other than virginal."

"Aunt Zelda! Not that it's anyone's business, but no, Harvey has not 'defiled' me."

That made her aunts simultaneously breathe out a sigh of relief. "Oh, praise Satan," Aunt Zelda whispered.

In her head, Sabrina could hear Salem laughing. _Wow! You humans really have strange priorities!_

Still, Sabrina would not be deterred. "However, now that you bring it up, I will admit that I have some... reservations... about saving myself for the Dark Lord. Why does he get to decide what I do with my body?" Or whom she does it with?

"Because it is witch Law," Aunt Zelda said, in a very aunt Zelda tone of voice. "It is Covenant."

"I get that, but still, why?"

Aunt Zelda shot her a look, but, as mentioned earlier, Sabrina would not be deterred. "Okay, so, if you don't know, then maybe I can talk to someone, before my baptism, someone who can help me to understand these things so that I can make an educated choice."

As she spoke, she slipped her hand into her pocket and rubbed at the coin. Maybe... someone like Mr. Wednesday?

That last word made Aunt Zelda's eyebrow perk straight up. "A choice? Sabrina, it is our sacred duty and honor to serve the Dark Lord. These extraordinary, delicious gifts that he bestows upon us, in return for signing our name in the book, they are part of that duty and honor. And you, you would deny him, deny yourself, all of that?"

Sabrina would not back down, and the coin felt warm in her hand. "It's _my _name, Aunt Zelda."

Her aunt scoffed, as she stopped fiddling with her egg. "Every member of our family, going back millennia, has signed our name in that book, and proudly, I might add." With another scoff, she got up from her seat, and began to stalk away. "This reeks of your mother's influence."

Aunt Hilda, bravely, rejoined the conversation. "Zelda, please, your blood pressure-"

Aunt Zelda whirled around, her angry gaze now firmly set on Aunt Hilda. "This is your fault too," she hissed at her sister. "We should have homeschooled her, as is our custom."

"Um, Sabrina... do you not want to join the Church of the Night as a full-fledged member?" Aunt Hilda asked.

Sabrina kept her hand on the coin. "I think so, but I just don't know why that, in order to do so, I have to be forced to give up everything in my life that's human."

"Because it is Witch. Law," Aunt Zelda declared. "The Path of Night, or (_ugh),_ the Path of Light, but not-"

"Both," Sabrina finished, as she stood up, and withdrew her hand from her pocket. "And yet, my father, a warlock, married my mother, and, last time I checked, she was a mortal, a human."

"Yes, and it nearly got Edward excommunicated. He was almost branded a heretic, for hell's sake!"

Sabrina slammed her chair on the ground in defiant anger. "I know! Which begs the question as to why I would want to join any sort of organization that would do that to anyone that I cared about!?"

"Because, it's what they wanted for you," Aunt Zelda said, slowly.

The blew the wind out of Sabrina's sails. Really?

Aunt Zelda then turned towards Aunt Hilda. "Isn't that right, Hilda?" she asked. "Didn't Edward and Diana both say so?"

"Yes... they did, lamb. Many times."

"Exactly," Aunt Zelda declared. "You are aa daughter of the church of the night. Your father was a High Priest."

As Aunt Zelda continued, it felt to Sabrina as if Mr. Wednesday's coin had suddenly become a lot heavier. "You will be baptized under a blood moon, as we were, as all the Spellmans before you were, as your future children will be. And that, my niece, is final."

With that, Aunt Zelda snatched up her cigar, turned on her heel, and stalked away while trailing a train of smoke, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

Sabrina sat on the front porch, Aunt Zelda's words fresh in her mind, as she fingered Mr. Wednesday's coin. The metal felt cold to touch. Footsteps made her rise her head, and around the corner came Ambrose, nursing a cup of espresso.

For a moment, neither said anything, and they both just looked out into the forest. "Let me ask you something," Ambrose began. "Last night, when we cast that spell on your prick of a principal, did you enjoy it? Because from what I saw, from the glint in your eye, you absolutely loved it."

Hesitantly, Sabrina nodded. Yeah, she had enjoyed it.

"So, that being the case, you then realize that your gifts, that euphoria, it will all fade to nothing if you aren't baptized, right?"

"I know. But, I just... I just need to be sure."

Ambrose nodded, as he tapped at the side of his cup. "Well then, in that case, it sounds to me like you need to get your hands on a _malum malus_."

"A what?"

"A _malum malus_. As for what it is, well, that depends on who is translating. If the translator is a man, then it's the apple of evil. But, for a woman, it's the fruit of knowledge."

"And... what do you do with this _malum malus_?"

Ambrose looked at her as if she had just asked a silly question. "What you do with any fruit, little cousin; you take a bit out of it. When you do, it will whisper secrets to you. It grants you knowledge, and, sometimes, in very rare cases... it will grant you a glimpse of the future."

Now Sabrina felt very intrigued. In her hand, the coin felt warm again. "The Path of Night, or the Path of Light? The _malum malus _might help to illuminate one path over the other. So... are you interested?"

Oh yes, definitely. "Oh yes, definitely."

"Right, then here is what you do; go to an orchard, and find the oldest tree. Every orchard has one, and the older the tree, the more that it will have seen, the more that it knows, and thus the more accurate that its reading of the future will be."

"Huh. Groovy." With a grin, Sabrina rose from the chair, gathered her school things, and started to walk to school. As she did, Ambrose called out. "And make sure that there are no worms in it."

* * *

When Stolas returned to her with the news, Lilith was not pleased. "A _malum malus?"_

Stolas cawed again. "And what, my dear friend, if the _malus_ were to show that little half-breed something that were to dissuade her from her Dark Baptism? Well, Our Dark Lord wouldn't like that, would he?"

Stolas cawed and shook his head. "Very well. You know what to do. Keep an eye on her."

With a nod, Stolas flew off...

* * *

Stolas had served Lilith, and the Dark One, faithfully, almost since the beginning, after the Fall. Even though he was a bit perplexed as to why his Lord and Lady were so intrigued by a half-breed mongrel, he knew better than to question their goals and plans. Besides, as the mortals said, that was above his pay grade to know, and so, all he could do was-

The next thing he knew, something tackled him out of the sky!

When he hit the ground, he found himself pinned by sharp talons. When he looked up, he saw two very, _very _large ravens pinning him down, one white with black eyes, and one black with white eyes. Tried as he might, he could not break free, or shift into his true form.

_Cease your struggling_, the black Raven said.

_Yeah, 'cause if ya don't, then we'll have ta rough ya up some more, and I don't think that ya want that, do ya, ya little crow bastard? _The white one asked, his voice was like that of a human punk.

Almost immediately, Stolas stopped struggling. _Wh-what do you want?_

_Our Lord wants a word with you, demon-spawn._

_Yeah, and ya better answer all his questions with real good and quick honesty, or yer gonna be roadkill!_

The last thing Stolas saw were their wings slamming over his head...

* * *

Sabrina's plan had worked. With Hawthorne away for a few days, due to feeling _ill_, Mrs. Meeks, the Vice Principal was left in charge, and she had been more than happy to ratify the formation of the club.

Mrs. Wardwell had even signed up to be listed as the club's faculty advisor, and was also available to lend a comforting ear to Sabrina's school dilemma.

Plus, Harvey was willing to take her to the orchard. With him now in the know, she felt comfortable telling him her reasons for doing so. He had been a little hesitant, but had agreed to take her in his dad's truck.

But, she still didn't feel entirely happy, the argument with Aunt Zelda still weighing on her mind and thoughts.

As she put her hand in her pocket, she brushed against the coin. Hmm, Mr. Wednesday was someone who could offer a different perspective. Maybe he could help. So, she went to his classroom.

"Mr Wednesday? I was wonder if...Are you... smoking a pipe?"

"Yes," he replied from his desk, as he put out the match he had just used to light it.

"Isn't that, I don't know, illegal and junk?"

"I would suppose so... which is why I opened a window. Are you planning on reporting me?"

"Wasn't planning on it."

"Then I think we can move on." As he spoke, he took a puff of his pipe, a strange thing wrought in the shape of a wolf's head, and the room was soon filled with the scent of tobacco.

"So, how can I help you, Sabrina?" He asked between puffs.

Sabrina shifted "So... I broached the idea of not doing my baptism, and, well, it didn't go great. Everyone keeps telling me that this is the only way to really do magic, and such, but, then, you come along and tell me that's not true. Path of the Night, or Path of the Light, everyone keeps telling me that I have to go the path of the night, and I just don't know anymore. So, I know that we really have only known each other for a day at most, but please, how did you get out of it, your dark baptism?"

Mr. Wednesday leaned back in his chair, as the smoke from his pipe swirled in the air of the darkened classroom. After taking it in hand, he looked at her. "It... Was not easy, I will tell you that. A lot of sacrifices had to made, personal and bloody. They were some of the most painful nine days of my life, truth be told... but, I will tell you that, even now, decades after, I do not regret a single thing. It was both the hardest and easiest decision that I ever made."

"Really? Why?"

He set his pipe down, leaned forwards, resting on his forearms, and interlacing his fingers. "Because, my dear, it was my choice in the end, and that is the one thing they cannot take away from you, not your aunts, or the other witches. They say that it's your duty to go through with it, your birthright and other such nonsense, but remember this; in the end, what it all comes down to, is your choice. Do it, or do not do it. There is no real wrong answer. Just a decision. Remember that, and you will be fine, no matter the outcome, because, like I have just said, it will have been _your _choice, and no one else's."

He flashed her a grin, and then leaned back. "Well, now, I think you better get going. Unless I am mistaken, you don't have detention, so there is no need for you to stay around this institute of learning much longer."

As she stood up to live, Sabrina paused. "Hey... those other forms of magic... think you can tell me bout them, sometime, Mr. Wednesday?"

He smiled around his pipe and pipe smoke. "But of course, my dear. It would be my pleasure."

* * *

Ambrose had a routine when it came to embalming; favorite pair of glasses, favorite brand of gloves, favorite apron, and, of course, favorite music. Today, he was in the mood for some Donovan.

As the room was filled with the smooth lyrics of _Hurdy Gurdy_ man, Ambrose set to work, and pulled back the sheet from the body. As his parents had said, it looked like some wild animals had mauled him. There was not even much left off his torso and face and- hang on.

Ambrose peered closer. Yes, yes, there it was, a single, clean puncture wound through the center of his throat.

Had this been a murder? Oh well, he was only mortal, so no big... loss?

There, on his arm, was an odd mark.

Ambrose knew what that mark was, and it was not a good thing.

The ladies Cain and Abel definitely needed to see this.

* * *

_Later_

The two had been fiddling about with some puzzle when he called to them.

"It's just a birthmark, Ambrose," Zelda/ Cain said, flippantly, as they stood around the body.

"Yeah, and that's what I first thought, except I poked it, and..." as he spoke, he inserted a needle into the mark, and then pulled it out. "No blood?" queried Hilda/ Abel. "Oh dear, that there's a witch's mark, then."

"Or, and here is a crazy thought, it simply means that all of what's left of his blood has already collected and settled in his buttocks," said Zelda.

"But if it is a witch's mark, and Connor here was murdered, and then tossed to wild animals..." Ambrose really did not want to be the one to say what he knew everyone in the room was no doubt thinking. He really, _really, _did not.

"A... a witch hunter?" Hilda finally ventured. "Is that even possible, in this day and age? I thought all the bloodlines went extinct, wiped out by the Church during the Black Inquisition."

"Well, it might be worth bringing up to the council, yeah?"

Zelda sighed in exasperation, tinged with worry. "Now this? This is just another very good, and very strong, reason as to why Sabrina has to join the Church of the Night. So that she can be protected from these monsters, if they are back. Witches without covens have always been easy pickings."

"Um, yes, well, I've been praying on that, Zelda," Hilda began, "and, well, I just think that if she wants to talk to someone, an outside opinion-"

"Really, Hilda? And just whom would you have her talk to for this 'outside opinion?' The Dark Lord himself?"

Hilda actually loosed a nervous chuckle at that. "Well, no, nothing like that... but, perhaps someone as reasonably close to him as possible?"

Zelda seemed to consider it for a moment, then shrugged. "Very well, if it will help her come to her senses." She then gestured to the corpse on the table. "Well, what are you waiting for? Finish the embalming, carefully. We need every single drop of blood for Sabrina's anointment during the Baptism."

As Ambrose went to fetch the required tools, Zelda took another look at the corpse. "Hmm, such a pity that his parents decided on an open casket. I can't remember the last time we had long pig for dinner."

* * *

It was nice, being driven by Harvey. To Sabrina's young mind, it felt right.

As they sped along the road, she looked at him, and he looked at her. He still looked a bit tired, though, he was also starting to eat more at lunch. After a moment, he held up her hand, and kissed it, before he gave her a small smile. She was just happy that he finally knew, and had accepted her for it regardless. With a content sigh, she snuggled up to him.

Soon enough, they were at the orchard.

As they walked through the rows of trees, still hand in hand, Harvey spoke. "Right, so, just so I'm clear, we need to find the oldest tree here..."

"Yes."

"And it will then give you a piece of magical fruit that will either give you a glimpse of the future... or drive you mad."

"Pretty much."

He scratched at his head with his free hand, as his other was currently busy holding hers. "Are you absolutely sure this is a good idea, and that this sort of thing can't be decided with a coin toss?"

She shook her head. "I wish that were the case, but, this is the kind of decision that can be left to blind luck like that."

"Whatever you say."

Then, they came to the entrance of a maze, made out of hay bales. Just to reinforce the idea that they were at the right place, there was even a sign with a pointing hand that read 'Old Tree.'

Sabrina sighed in resignation. "Nothing's ever easy, is it?"

"Guess not," Harvey agreed.

They then set off. Through twists and turns, they ventured deeper and deeper. Then, they came to a creepy-looking scarecrow, and a fork in the maze, one going left, and the other going right.

"So," Harvey began, as they looked at the scarecrow, "what now?"

Sabrina shrugged. "Maybe... split up?"

He leveled her a look of disbelief. "Really? The horror-movie buff thinks that it's a good idea to split up? You are aware that that never ends well, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "Well, then, let's leave it to chance."

She raised her finger, and began to rhyme, alternating between the left and right as she did so.

_"Hickory, Pickery,_

_Hickory, Pickery..."_

Her finger was pointing to the left. "Right, so left it is."

So left the two went.

As they continued onwards, the wind lightly picked up, rustling through their hair, and making them shiver a bit. To her annoyance, all that going left did was just make them go in a circle, back to the scarecrow and...

"Uh, Sabrina," Harvey whispered, a bit of fear in his voice. "Where's the scarecrow?"

It had just... vanished.

They slowly backed away-

AGH!

Something reared up behind them, knocked Harvey aside, and then wrapped its arms around Sabrina, and dragged her to the ground!

It was the scarecrow! It had come to life, and was shrieking in her ear, and was clawing at her eyes and face and-

"Get away from her!" The next thing she knew, Harvey battered it away with a pumpkin to the face, and sent it careening to the ground alongside several fragments of pumpkin.

Sabrina scrambled to her feet, grabbed Harvey's hand, since he was staring at the thing in shock, and dragged him along through the maze. They ran. They ran and ran, and dared not look back, for fear that it was following them.

And it was! It was so fast!

* * *

Lilith chuckled as she made the simulacrum move, and chase after the two teens. "There will be no apple picking for either of you, dearies. So run, run, run!"

* * *

Neither teen was certain how long they could keep running, and it was getting close, and closer, and then Harvey tripped and fell to the ground, and...

Suddenly, with a mighty roar, Sabrina and Harvey heard something barrel into the scarecrow, and it was sent crashing through the maze, followed by the sounds of roars and screeches and other throaty sounds.

After getting Harvey to his feet, the two teens slowly edged towards the new opening in the maze. What had just done-

Then, with a very self-satisfied 'fou', out strode Salem, lifting his little fluffy, cute head high and proud.

_Hey there, pretty girl. Sorry, but I've always loved them dramatically awesome entrances. I got here as fast as I could. Are you all right?_

"Thanks," Sabrina said, a bit breathlessly. "We're fine."

She then looked towards Harvey, who was currently looking at Salem with a mix of fear, and admiration, along with a tinge of bafflement. "Did… Did your pet... thing..."

"Goblin."

"Right... did your pet goblin just save our lives?"

Sabrina nodded, as she stroked Salem's head. "Yeah, he did. Good boy"

_Thank you. I am indeed a very good boy,_ Salem preened.

Harvey slowly nodded his head, as if he were trying to take it all in. "Right, a cat that can kill living scarecrows... Groovy. Think I'll change my stance on cats. So, any idea who... sent this?"

"No clue?" Maybe it was those bitches, the weird sisters? Sabrina had not seen them in weeks, so that was unlikely. But, they still had things to do. She then knelt towards Salem. "Hey, can you help us get through this maze, to the tree?"

Salem titled his head, and gave a familiar's version of a shrug. _Well, I'm not a guide dog, but I'll do my best. You and your paramour (who smells funny by the way) can follow me._

She rose, and turned towards Harvey. 'He wants us to follow him. He can get us to the tree."

Harvey just slowly nodded again. "...Right. Cool, cool."

* * *

Lilith jerked back with a shock as her connection to the spell was severed abruptly, and then, she slowly looked down.

As Lilith looked upon the now tattered doll in anger, she swept it aside with a brief scream.

Impossible! What was that… thing?

Who had interfered? How had they broken the spell?

* * *

Finally, the trio found the tree, and it was indeed an old tree. It was a large, moss-covered thing, with branches sloping outwards in just about every direction. It looked old, it smelled old, and it felt very old.

_There you are. One old tree, _Salem declared proudly.

Sabrina said thank you, and then slowly approached it. Almost immediately, they saw a single apple of red, like blood, hanging from its lowest branch. "Um.. "Brina. Just for the sake of argument, are you really sure about this?" Harvey asked, as he looked about, almost as if he were expecting another scarecrow to come charging towards them.

_I have to agree with your paramour, pretty girl. This feels wrong on very many levels._

"I have to know, Harvey. There's no other way."

With a final squeeze of the coin in her pocket, Sabrina reached up and plucked the apple. "_Malum_," she whispered as she brought the fruit up to her lips. "Should I be baptized?"

She took a bite. It tasted sweet. Then, she looked down.

With a gasp, she dropped the apple, no rotten, and full of maggots. Then, she looked up!

* * *

_It was like a scene straight from Hell. The tree was burning, and from every branch, a woman was hanging on a rope by her neck, and they were still alive, and screaming, even as they choked and died, they were still screaming. There was blood on her hands, so much blood. Everywhere, there were bodies and maggots and blood_

_Then, the trunk of the tree began to break open. _

_Bang._

_Bang._

_BANG!_

_From within its depths stepped..._

_It was a terrifying figure, with the head and hooves of a goat, the face and tusks of a boar, the claws of a lizard, and the body of a man. Set into its brow was a burning, bleeding symbol that seemed to make her eyes reel in pain. _

_Should she scream? Should she run? Should she die? Could she ever escape? _

_As the goat-headed demon stepped towards her, the ground began… to shake, almost as if they were mighty… footsteps. The goat-monster stopped, as if surprised. _

BOOM

BOOM

BOOM

BOOM

_It was coming from behind her._

_She turned, and…_

_What stood before her was an enormous white buffalo, with eyes of pure flame, and strange trees and plants and wood growing from its back. It was massive, and it was standing right in front of her, looking at her, like how a lion would an ant._

_At its side padded a wolf, lean and brown-pelted, with a hungry look in its eyes._

_But, unlike with the goat monster, Sabrina was not afraid. She actually felt calmed by the presence of these two creatures, predator, and prey._

_The goat creature roared, as if affronted by the buffalo and wolf's presence. _

_In response, the buffalo looked upon the monster, and snorted, while the wolf let out a great howl. _

_At once, the fire and the demons vanished, but the buffalo and wolf remained, while the forest turned dark with night, and the buffalo once again stared at Sabrina with its large fiery eyes._

_It breathed on her, the moist mist from its nostrils oddly soothing. Almost hesitatingly, she reached out and touched its snout, and it was wet and warm. The buffalo seemed to lean into her touch._

**Believe.**

_The word echoed through her mind like the gong of a mighty church bell. Almost instinctively, she knew that it had come from the buffalo._

_Then, came another voice, as powerful as the Sun._

**I ask of you, are you My Master?**

_She blinked, just as the wolf suddenly bit her hand..._

"Sabrina?"

* * *

Suddenly, she was in front of the tree, one hand outstretched, while her other hand had been grabbed by Harvey. I the next moment, she threw up the pieces of the apple in her mouth onto the ground.

"What was it," Harvey asked. "You just spaced out for a second, then you screamed for a moment, and then you looked as if you saw something horrible. What happened?"

At that moment, all Sabrina could do was wrap her arms around him in a desperate hug, which he returned with some confusion, while Salem curled around her leg protectively.

What was going on? What did any of that mean?

Was that what it meant to be a follower of the Night?

* * *

Perched on top of the tree, the two ravens watched as the two teens and the not-cat left.

_Looks like the demon spawn was right._

_Yeah. Just like the boss predicted, she musta' seen the beasties. So now what, bro?_

_The plan continues, and we continue with our function of watching, listening, and reporting. And, when we can, as per his orders, we protect her. _

_Cool, just as long as that stupid little ape killer don't show us up like that, again..._

* * *

Sabrina was quiet on the ride back, and then on the walk back to her house, though she did her best to assure Harvey that she was alright. As she walked, she fingered Wednesday's coin.

What did all of that mean? Was that what awaited her if she was baptized? Or if she wasn't? What was that monster? And what was that buffalo and wolf?

As she approached the house, Salem suddenly stopped walking. "Salem?"

_I can sense someone else in that house, aside from your aunts and the horny one. Someone powerful... and very arrogant. It makes my fur stand on end, all that arrogance. _

Seeing as how he would not budge, Sabrina shrugged, and headed into the house. She idly noted that the jack O'Lanterns were already out. Aunt Hilda was truly a natural with carving tools.

The moment she entered, she heard Aunt Hilda's voice, emanating from the living room. "Sabrina? We're in here, dearie."

We?

Inside the room, a roaring fire was lit, and... a man was there, talking with her aunties, and Ambrose. He looked regal, high class, and was garbed in rather Victorian-looking clothes, complete with lace frills at the wrists and neck, and a long, black cane in his right hand.

"Is this the child?" his deep voice asked.

Aunt Zelda answered. It is, your Excellency."

"This is our niece, Sabrina. Edward's daughter," said Aunt Hilda.

Sabrina drew closer, her hand in her pocket, and tightly squeezing the coin, as the man looked up at her.

She recognized him instantly.

It was Father Faustus Blackwood.

The High Priest of the Church of the Night.

He looked at her, and a hungry look entered into his eyes. "Oh, my child," he said. "You have no idea how special you are, do you? How, you've been chosen. Please, take a seat."

Reluctantly, she did, her hand still in her pocket, the metal icy cold. "So," The Dark Lord's representative on Earth began. "Your aunts have told me taht you have been experiencing doubts about your baptism? That you may, in fact, not be signing your name in the Book of the Beast?"

Before she could answer, he held up a clawed hand. "No, no, no, that cannot be. Indeed, that _must _not be."

He leaned back in his chair, with something like a comforting expression adorning his face. "As such, let us then see what we can do, to alleviate your concerns, to convince you, to take the right path."

* * *

**A/N: A new chapter. What is Wednesday up to? How does Sabrina and her friends fit in? What will happen?**

**Yes, I decided to involve the Chilling Adventures of Sabrina? As to why, well, I think it will make for an interesting story. **

**Read, review, and enjoy!**

**A/NN Have changed Salem's species, as it will be releveant to the story. It should be pretty obvious as to who he is. **


	10. Chapter 10

Fate Ragnarök Chapter 10: A choice under the moonlight

Father Faustus Blackwood was a creep, Sabrina decided. Everything about him just oozed sleaze. The way he sat, the way he blinked, the way he looked at her and her aunts, and especially the way he lightly gnawed his clawed fingers while smirking. It was just creepy, and made her want to take a bath in boiling water.

Still, though she was loathe to admit it, this was the best chance she would have at getting some answers. So, she steeled her self and clutched the coin.

"Now then," the Dark Lord's earthly representative said, in oily tones, "your lovely aunties here tell me that you have questions, about your Dark Baptism and whatnot. So, let me see if I can allay your fears."

"Uh... yeah, I do have some questions and concerns, but... I just don't know where to begin."

"Well, then by all means, allow me." He shifted slightly in his seat, as if he were getting comfortable, and then began as if he were a teacher giving a lecture. "Now, as I am sure you know, a witch's Dark Baptism is our most sacred of the unholy sacraments. Indeed, it is the oldest of our rites, and we have been performing them for centuries." Aunt Zelda and Aunt Hilda nodded in agreement at that, as he continued. "Our Dark Lord's book, the _Book of the Beast_, is the most ancient tome in existence-"

"Yeah," Sabrina interjected. "About that... If I sign my name in _The Book of the Beast_, then does that mean that I'm just giving the Dark Lord dominion over my soul?"

"That is one interpretation, but I can assure you that it is largely just a symbolic gesture, as rituals in most other religions are," Blackwood replied, in a conciliatory manner.

Okay, that was good to know. In her hand, the coin was stone cold. "So, what else do you wish to know," he asked.

"Right... um, let's say that I do sign my name in his book. Does that mean that the Dark Lord can just... call on me, whenever he wants, to do his bidding?"

"Well, all religions do require and demand some sacrifice. But, sighing your name, it's more like, let's say... a pledge. A promise that you'll abide by his commandments and teachings." He then leveled her an even, almost patronizing look. "Do you know your Thirteen Commandments, my dear?"

"Of course she does," Aunt Zelda interjected, her fingers tapping on her knee anxiously. No doubt she was desperately craving a cigar. "We taught them to her."

"Yes, sh-she's learned them by heart," added Aunt Hilda.

"Look, I'm not an evil person, Father," Sabrina stated.

At that, the room suddenly grew quiet, as he stared at her for a long, anxious moment... and then he laughed, along with Aunt Zelda and Hilda. Even Ambrose gave a small chuckle. "Excellent," said Blackwood, once he finished laughing. 'I'm glad to hear it. Neither am I, and neither are your aunts."

"But the Devil..."

At that, his smile vanished from his face, and the room grew quiet again, while the coin felt warm. "The Dark Lord, yes?"

"...He's the embodiment of evil."

Blackwood held up a disproving finger. "Ah. ah, that is incorrect. What he is, is the embodiment of Free Will. Good. Evil. Those words might matter to the False God, but our great Dark Lord is beyond such mere and measly precepts."

"But, what about Hell? I don't want to go there when I die." The coin was still warm.

"Well, first of all, if you accept the gifts of the Dark Lord, then you won't die. Not for a very, very long time, at least. And, second of all, Hell is only for mortals. In exchange for our devotion and service, we witches and warlocks are completely exempt from the eternal flames of perdition and damnation." His smile came back as he looked over her and her aunts. "I think I see the problem. Really, what's needed here is just a fundamental shift in thinking, that's all-"

"Okay, but what about my boyfriend?" She clenched the coin tighter. "Why do I have to break up with him?"

"I am assuming that this boyfriend of yours, he is mortal, yes?"

She nodded, and he gave a small, almost pitying sigh. "As you aunts have no doubt explained to you, there is an inherent incompatibility between mortal and witch. Should you become a full witch, then your human partner would age must faster than you, and you would be forced to watch them wither away and die. Is that something that you want to have to experience?"

"No, but... my father married a mortal."

Blackwood nodded as if conceding that she had a point. "That is indeed very true, but, he was the High Priest of the Church of the Night, and, as such, was granted a special... dispensation."

Oh? "A dispensation? By whom?"

"By the Dark Lord, of course. In fact, Satan himself blessed the marital union of your father and your mortal mother, but, even then, _even then_, there more than a good amount of controversy that was stirred up over your father's actions. Many thought that he was a step away from becoming a heretic." He then sighed, in an almost mournful way. "In fact, some even thought that the accident that claimed the lives of him and his bride, your mother, was more than a bit... circumspect."

What? "...What? Are you saying that they may have been... murdered?"

"That was the popular opinion for a season, but, an inquiry was held, and there had been zero sign of any malfeasance of any kind. In the end, all it was was an accident, a most terrible, unforeseeable accident."

The coin felt somewhere between cold and warm, and now felt a bit heavy.

The room grew quiet and somber for a moment. Then, Father Blackwood took a deep breath, as if to steady himself, and looked at her again. "Are there... any other concerns or questions that are weighing upon your mind?"

Sabrina nodded. "There is; earlier today, I took a bit of a _malum malus_."

"You did WHAT!?" Aunt Zelda exclaimed.

Sabrina ignored her and continued. "The future that it showed me, it was... beyond horrifying."

Father Blackwood _tut-tutted_. "The biting of a _malum malus_ as a means for the prognostication of the future is a method that has not been recommended or even considered reliable, for decades. Most specifically, it is because of its wild inaccuracy."

It did not escape Sabrina's notice how nervously he was fingering his cane as he shifted in his seat. "But, if I may... your father was one of the Church of Night's greatest thinkers, as well as one of my oldest friends. He would have wanted you to follow in his footsteps."

He gave an oddly warm smile. "It is not wrong that you have so many questions. Indeed, it is a positive thing to be so inquisitive. My advice? Take your baptism. Come to the Academy of the Unseen Arts. Learn of our history, so that you may find answers to your questions, and then challenge them so as to make better answers. Hells, make us stronger through your inquisitive mind, just like your father did." He gave her an almost pleading grin. "Will you try, at the very least? But, of course, if it is not to your liking-"

"You'll let me leave the church?"

He chuckled. "Free choice, child. Free choice. That is, after all, the bedrock upon which our Church is built."

He then leaned on his cane with both hands, as if tonight had sapped some of his energy. "But, I do hope to see you in the woods on Samhain. I have been assured by our aeromancers and astronomers that the moon is certain to be quite glorious."

Aunt Zelda was quick to answer. "She will most certainly be there fatter, and with wings and bells on her feet. isn't that right, _Sabrina?"_

"... Looking forward to it."

The High Priest gave her another smile, and then slowly stood up from his chair. "Well then, in that case, if there is nothing else..."

"Um, there is one thing, your excellency," said Ambrose, who had been silent the entire time...

* * *

Even as a child, Sabrina had never been fond of the morgue. It was one thing to enjoy the sight of cinematic corpses and things, but it was quite another to be in the same room as the real thing.

Everyone watched as Father Blackwood ran his hands over the dead boys body in examination, coming to rest before the mark on his arm. "It is a witch's mark, or that, there can be no doubt."

He then looked up from his examination. "What of the boy's parents?"

"Completely mortal, Father," answered Aunt Hilda. "He was adopted as a wee lad. They had no idea."

Father Blackwood sighed in pity. "Poor boy. Such a tragedy. All alone in the world. Raised by mortals. Never baptized."

As he said that last bit, he raised his head to look at Sabrina, and was soon followed by everyone else in the room. Wow, very subtle. "Think of what he might have accomplished, had he been given the chance. It's just tragic, really."

As the High Priest withdrew a bit of hand-sanitizer from his coat pocket, along with his gloves, Ambrose spoke up again. "His murder hasn't been solved. I've checked the papers, the news. All quiet. So, we've started to wonder if, maybe, there is a chance of a witch-hunter being in our midst."

Father Blackwood shook his head. "That would be quite impossible. Every last trace of those infernal bloodlines had been utterly exterminated, during the dark days of the Inquisition."

"But... it could be possible, right?"

Father Blackwood pursued his lips in thought for a moment and then shrugged. "I'll speak to the Council... but, for all our sakes, I am sure that it is nothing more than what it appears to be; a tragedy. Goodnight, everyone. Dark One's blessings be upon you all..."

* * *

"He's a bit dramatic, isn't he? Father Blackwood?" Aunt Hilda asked as she sorted away Sabrina's things. "They grew up together, you know. He was even your father's mentor, back when little Edward was still having trouble with his spells."

"But, then dad surpassed him, right?" Sabrina inquired, as she lay in her bed.

Aunt Hilda chuckled at that. "Oh, indeed he did." She then ambled over to Sabrina's bed. "Your father was an incredibly charismatic man, Sabina. No matter what, people just wanted to follow Edward, wherever he went. He was ever so handsome. Heck, he could have been a famous movie star, just like cousin Montgomery. But no... he received the call very early. only six years old at the time, you know."

As Aunt Hilda trailed off, Sabrina studied her aunt's kindly face. "Aunt Hilda?"

"Yes, dove?"

"Did... did you ever have any doubts about your dark baptism?"

Aunt Hilda sighed deeply, as if trying to figure out the right words to say. "When... when I was your age, I signed my name in _The Book of the Beast_. I mean... it was not as if us girls really had many other options back then. It was just... what was done back then, I suppose. Now, do I have regrets?"

She looked about, and then leaned in, almost conspiratorially. "Now, you mustn't tell your Aunt Zelda this, but... some days... some nights... I dream that I am walking through the Greendale woods, in the peak of the dry season, and with a lit torch in each hand. Then, I... I just watch the entire bloody forest burn to ash, like so much kindling."

The room grew heavy in the wake of that revelation, as Aunt Hilda seemed to drift off into her thoughts. Hesitantly, Sabrina reached out. "...Aunt Hilda?"

Her aunt then snapped out of whatever daze she had been in, and then gave a chuckle and a smile to Sabrina. "Have a lovely little sleep, my turtledove."

* * *

As Hilda began to fuss about with Sabrina's covers, neither noticed Zelda's astral projection, watching them from the ceiling.

With a zip and a gasp, Zelda returned to her body, lying serenely on the floor.

"Oh Hilda, you complete and utter fool," she said, as she slowly rose from the floor. "You'll be the death of me yet... and I'll be the death of you."

* * *

From where he stood in the doorway, Salem (for that was his awesome new name now) watched the elder witch mumble to herself whilst plotting fratricide.

Wow, and he had thought that his family was screwed up. Still, it was all so very interesting to watch.

Just a few things that his friends would no doubt like to know...

As well as that idiot old man...

* * *

_Elsewhere in Greendale, in a Nameless inn_

As Wednesday looked over a small mountain of papers, worksheets, and quizzes, he found himself sympathizing with the universal plight of teachers everywhere.

A rustling noise lifted him from his task, and he looked over the rims of his glasses to see one of his helpers perched upon the desk of the inn room that he was renting. "Well?"

_It's all cool boss. We've been working him over real well like ya told us to. He's probably ready to squeal. _

"Excellent work, my friend, though, just as a precaution, fetch me my little tool kit. It never hurts to have an extra bit of prerogative in these sorts of things," he said, as he rose from the desk.

Despite it being physically impossible, the white raven seemed to be grinning in a conspiratorial manner. _Gotcha loud and clear, boss._

Wednesday made his way into the bedroom, where, hanging on the wall was a large corkboard, the sort that was used to pin and display specimens.

Impaled to the corkboard by a large needle through each wing was the creature known as Stolas. He was bloodied, and, upon Wednesday's arrival, his bloodied eyes grew wide with fear.

He took out a bundle of long needles, and a large thermos full of water. "You know that there is no point in struggling. All of these needles, including the ones pining you to the board, are forged from cold iron, and enchanted with stacks of bind runes, while behind that cork board is a binding circle from the book of Solomon, overlaid with a circle from the book of Enoch. You cannot shift from your familiar form, and you can't break free. And why would you want to, when we are getting so well acquainted?"

_Please, there is no need for any more of this! I will tell you what you want to know, I swear! I will be your eyes and ears against the Dark One and Lilith-"_

The white raven's ebony twin flew over and scratched his talons across Stolas' face, eliciting another shriek of pain form the trapped familiar. _Silence, lowly worm. Have some modicum of self-respect when you address our lord!_

Wednesday chuckled as he dipped one of the needles into the water, and waved off the ebony raven. "Now, now, my friend, there is no need to be so rough with our guest anymore. As for you, Stolas, I have no doubt that you are now more than willing to tell me everything, little demon. But, please understand that what I'm about to do to you is not really for the purpose of information gathering. Rather, it's for a bit of catharsis, especially considering what your Dark Lord did to me, all that time ago. Of course, I also don't really trust you, what with you being a demon and whatnot, but that is not really here nor there."

He grabbed Stolas' neck with thumb, forefinger and middle finger, and slowly twisted it to present Stolas' right eye, and he then slowly lowered the point of the needle close to the retina. "There's no point in screaming. There are enough charms in this room to make an atomic explosion as quiet as the void, though you are free to tell me what you wish. Of course, your mistress and master won't know what has happened here either. But, not to worry, you won't remember a thing of what I'm about to do to you. You won't even dream about it, I promise. It will be like it never even happened at all, and you will be all good as new. But enough chatter... Let's get down to business, shall we?"

As he then plunged the needle in the eye, Stolas ignored his request, and started to scream as only a demon trapped in a crow's body could scream...

* * *

_Thursday,_

_October 30th,_

_The next day,_

_Now._

Oddly enough, after the events of last night, Sabrina had awoken feeling a bit refreshed. Coin in the pocket, and makeup freshly applied to her neck, she headed downstairs for breakfast.

When Aunt Hilda saw her, she let loose a happy little gasp of surprise. "Oh, there you are, dearie. Look who just dropped by for a visit."

It was Harvey, and he rose to greet her with a smile, though, perhaps he was also doing his best not to let the fact that he was surrounded by witches get to him. He also still looked a bit tired.

"Hey," he said with a smile.

"Hey," she replied with a smile. They then hugged and exchanged knowing looks.

Meanwhile, Ambrose was leafing through the sketchbook that Harvey had brought with him. "Hey, you drew these? They're all wicked good, mate."

"Oh, uh yeah. Thanks. I really into comic books and graphic novels," Harvey said, whilst stifling a bit of a yawn, and then reaching for a muffin that Aunt Hilda had given him.

"Really? Me too," said Ambrose. "Alan Moore, Neil Gaiman, Grant Morrison."

"Wait a minute," Sabrina interjected. "You came by to talk comic books?"

"What? No. I just came by to surprise you."

"Yes, and isn't it just the _loveliest _of surprises," Aunt Zelda said, as she stirred her tea.

If her tone had been any more acid, the floor would have been full of holes and pockmarks.

Harvey continued, though he did swallow a bit. "Also, I, uh, wanted to ask your aunts-"

As Sabrina opened her mouth, Harvey quickly continued, "Look, I know you can't do anything about Friday, seeing as you have..._ plans..."_

_"_She does," interjected Aunt Zelda. "And they are set in stone."

"...Right, so, in that case, I just came by to see if we could celebrate the next day... Saturday. Maybe go bowling. You and me and Susie and Roz. Heck, your aunts can also come, if they want."

What was he trying to say? "The day after my birthday?" She looked towards Aunt Zelda. "Would that even be possible?"

"Well, I think it would be a marvelous idea," said Aunt Hilda, as she walked by.

Aunt Zelda rolled her eyes. "I do too, but why don't we play it by ear, _hmmm?"_

Great... not awkward at all.

* * *

_Later_

"Man, I was always thought your Aunt Zelda was pretty intimidating. Seeing as how she's a witch, well, I guess that makes a kind of sense," Harvey said, as he and Sabrina walked to where he had parked his truck, his arm around her shoulders and holding her close.

It felt nice.

"Yeah, she is like that, sometimes. But, I have to know, what was with all that back there?"

"Well, a few reasons. A), it's partly because I didn't want to get your aunts wise to the idea that I know what you all are, and B) it was also because I don't really know them."

"Well, A) you did a fine job, and B)... you do realize that is entirely intentional, right?"

Harvey shrugged. "I guess... I don't know, maybe bowling was not the right move. I mean, do either of them even bowl at all?"

"No, it was a wonderful idea."

"Thanks, but even if you go through with... it, the thing... think it still might be able to happen? Maybe even next Saturday, if not this one?"

The coin felt heavy in her pocket. "I... I don't know."

"Have you decided then, what you're going to do?"

"Sadly... no. I just don't know."

They walked to his truck in a semi-comfortable silence, after that.

* * *

The pain from her split lip had faded last night, and Susie walked into the school with a bit of hope fluttering in her chest. Sabrina's club sounded like an awesome idea. Maybe, with some more support, Susie could finally figure out who she was and-

"Women's Intersectional Creative Cultural Association, huh?"

The voice stopped her dead in her tracks. It was them. There they were, crowded around the sign for Sabrina's new club. All four of them. Despite herself, she edged closer. With cruel laughter ringing from their lips, she watched as their leader, Billy Marlen, proceeded to rip the sign off the wall, and tear it into pieces, all the while giggling about 'redecorating.'

Just turn and walk the other way, Susie, just turn and walk the other way...

"Jeez, bunch of uptight bitches. Can they even call themselves women?"

At that moment, it felt like there was thunder in her ears, and her fists clenched so tightly it felt as if she would break the skin. Thunder in her ears and heart pounding in her chest, Susie turned and faced them. "Hey, dick-for-brains!"

That got their attention but all they did was just laugh at her. "What's your problem, dyke?"

The thunder roared louder.

Before she could stop herself, Susie screamed, and dashed forward...

* * *

When they pulled into the school parking lot, Sabrina and Harvey were met with a sight that they had not been expecting to see at all; they saw Mr. Wednesday kneeling and lightly dabbing at Susie's torn lip and broken nose with a handkerchief and some rubbing alcohol, cleaning up some of the blood, while she held an icepack to a bruise around her eye, and Roz was comforting her. Susie looked like she was crying. "What happened?" Sabrina exclaimed, as she and Harvey rushed over.

Mr. Wednesday was the one to answer that. "Young Susie here saw some of those repugnant young men from your football team tearing down and defacing the sign for your new club. Full of righteous fury, she charged at them like a mighty berserker. Sadly, though her spirit was willing, her body (and please take no offense to this, my dear) was not quite up to the task, and they then proceeded to retaliate upon her, all the while throwing out all sorts of terrible blandishments, none of which bear repeating. Then, to add insult to injury, though I spoke in her defense, having witnessed the confrontation, the interim principal has deemed it necessary to shackle our young Susie here with a suspension, and I, as a teacher, have been tasked with taking her home, though, I thought it best to help alleviate the pain from some of her wounds first."

"Yeah, except I can't go home. I don't want my dad to know about this," Susie said, tears running down her cheeks.

Mr. Wednesday nodded as he gently prodded at Susie's nose. "Oh, but of course not, little warrior. If that is the case, then where can I take you, hm? But first, hold still, this is going to hurt. Breath in, hold it, and now breathe out in three, two..." At one, he pushed and twisted. There was a sharp crack, and Susie's nose was reset. To her credit, she did not cry out from pain.

"Wait..." Sabrina interjected. "Football players? Were these the same ones as before, Susie?"

"You go into a fight with football players? How many?" Harvey asked.

Angrily, Susie held up four fingers as Mr. Wednesday finished his ministrations. "Four of them."

Sabrina felt wrath boiling behind her eyes. "That's it. We're going to the police, and we will press charges. Susie, this was physical assault."

"While that may be true, I must reluctantly point out that young Susie here was the one who started the altercation. As such, those brutes will simply claim self-defense," Mr Wednesday said, as he got to his feet.

Sabrina put her hand on Susie's shoulder. "Susie, listen to me; I swear that this will never happen again, but you have to tell us this time. Who was it?"

Susie looked reluctant to tell her, until Mr. Wednesday put a gloved hand on the young girl's other shoulder. 'It's alright, young Susie. You don't need to keep silent about this any longer."

So, Susie told them.

Billy Marlen.

Ed Dursley.

Seth Grinwis.

Carl Tapper.

* * *

S Sabrina had been stewing in a simmering rage all day, and, first chance she got once school let out, went to talk with Mr. Wednesday. Currently, she was pacing back and forth in his office, while the room was sufficed with the oddly sweet scent of his pipe tobacco. "Billy Marlen, Ed Dursley, Seth Grinwis, and Carl Tapper."

"Yes, four of Greendale's golden sons, from what I have heard," Mr. Wednesday said around his pipe.

"Before, they were just bullying Susie, and now, they're punching her!? She is _tiny_. Those four pieces-of-shit have to be held accountable!"

"I understand that. Perhaps we can sit down with the principal, once he returns next week after that spell you cast on him wears off."

Angry as she was, Sabrina still had to wonder how he knew about that. When she sent him an inquiring stare, he smiled, and tapped the side of his nose knowingly, under his left eye. That being answered, Sabrina resumed her pacing. "Yeah, but I may not be here next week."

"Oh? So you are still undecided about your baptism?"

"No," she said, somewhat irritably. "I still haven't decided, but that's not the point at the moment!"

"Calm down. Rage in this moment will do for nothing but wear you out. Take a breath."

Despite herself, she did so, counting to ten, and exhaling on the count of ten. "I just... feel like I should do something about this, you know?" Sabrina said, as she kept pacing, though the pace was slowed.

"I do, I understand that feeling perfectly well, me dear, more than you can know. You feel that it is your duty to strike fear into the hearts of those who have wronged your friend, perhaps in such a manner that it would leave them chastised and humbled for life, so as to avenge the wrongs they have done to young Susie. In other words... fight fire with fire, as it were?"

That got Sabrina's attention, and she looked at him in confusion. Was he advocating what she thought he was?

He frowned around his pipe. "Now, of course, as a public servant, devoted towards the educating of future generations, I am in no way advocating such an act, as it would go against my professional code... but, perhaps you just heard me talking to myself, and no one else, about how it would be what those boys deserve?"

Sabrina stopped pacing, and leaned in. "Will you help me?"

"Hypothetically, I might. First... tell me what you might have been planning to do."

She nodded. "... There is a trio of witches, about my age. They call themselves the 'Weird Sisters.' This would be the sort of thing that they would be good at, tormenting, that is."

"I see, and are these 'Weird Sisters' good friends of yours, or at least close acquaintances?"

"...Not exactly. They can be... cruel. Their leader, Prudence, likes to taunt me a lot."

"Hmm, and, just so I have the entire, accurate picture, your plan to get revenge upon the four football hooligans is to enlist the help of three people who would prefer that you never existed, yes? And you don't see how that could possibly go wrong, the fact that your plan would hinge entirely upon the whims of their cruelty, as well as their decision to not double-cross you in some way?"

...When he said it like that, it did sound like a bad idea. "Well, do you have any other ideas?"

He looked about in a conspiratorial manner, and then reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out a small-carved stone, dangling on a string. A strange symbol was cut into the stone. He then took out a folded slip of paper. "Inset into this amulet is a powerful charm of mental retaliation and woe. Everything that they have done to young Susie, they will experience, seven-fold. Ordinarily, it would be far beyond your ability to use, but the stone it has been carved into will make the casting quite easy for you. Picture them in your mind, drip a drop of blood onto the stone, and it will do the rest. Just know that it's a one-use thing, but it should be safe for you to use, even as a beginner."

As she reached for it, he pulled it back out of her reach for a moment. "However, bear this in mind...Vengeance is a mighty thing, my dear, but so often does it spin out of our control. You may do what you like, but just be prepared for the idea that things may not go the way you were expecting. And be warned... using this sort of spell... there may be some fallback. Are you prepared, for such a thing? Would you be willing to accept the potential consequences of these actions?" He slowly danged it within her reach again. "It's your choice, my dear."

Without hesitation, Sabrina grabbed the charm. It felt warm in her hand.

As she walked away, Mr. Wednesday called out. "Let me know how it turns out."

* * *

It was a good day, Zelda decided, thought the sun was a bit too damnably bright.

Still, it was a good day for it. She had been feeling the urge rising in the past few days, and, after what she had heard last night, she had decided that it was about time to indulge again.

Resolute in purpose, she strode to where her sister was tending the garden. "Sister?" she called out.

At her call, Hilda rose up, a simple smile on her round face. "Oh, Zelda! It's my turnips! They've coming up marvelously this-"

That idiotic smile was still on her face as the knotted wooden club in Zelda's hand collided solidly with Hilda's temple in a spray of blood and a loud _crack_.

She fell without a sound, save for the sound of the body's thump upon the ground.

Taking a deep breath, Zelda then knelt down, grabbed the corpse by its ankles, and began to drag it towards the graveyard. Ugh, it was already evacuating its bowls, leaving a small stain of shit and piss as she dragged it along.

Once the chosen plot was reached, Zelda shoved the corpse in, facedown, and then began to fill in the dirt. It was not deep; she was not a total monster after all.

Once she had finished, and she was patting down the dirt, the sound of a car made her look up for a moment. It was the parents of the dead witch boy.

Whatever. With a shrug, she went back to patting the top of the soil down.

* * *

With gentle ease, Ambrose lifted up the head of the coffin to show Conner's parents his cleaned body. It had taken a good bit of work, but Ambrose felt that the end result had been worth it. "I do hope that I've done your son justice, Mr and Mrs. Kemper."

Slowly, Mrs. Kemper approached the body of her son. With slow and, she caressed his face. "He looks like he did when he was asleep, as a little boy. Thank you."

Ambrose gave her a kind smile. "I'm just pleased that you're happy, Mrs. Kemper."

As he saw the tears starting to form in the corner of her eyes, Ambrose decided that some further help was in order. "Say, if you're not in a rush, may I offer you two a cup of tea?"

_Later_

He brewed them a batch of chamomile tea, one of the best brands for the soothing of the nerves. As he poured, he decided to gently probe for information. "If you don't mind me asking, Mrs. Kemper, but I was curious... has there been any news on what happened to Connor?"

Mr. Kemper was the one to answer. "Not really. The police are just chalking it up to a wild animal attack. other than that, they don't know anything else. They don't know why he was at the town border that night. We don't know why."

The town border?

"I told you, he was just going for a walk," Mrs. Kemper gently reminded her husband. "That's all."

Interesting. "Right, and, tell me Mr. and Mrs. Kemper... should we be expecting aa large-sized crowd for Connor's visitation?

Mrs. Kemper gently shook her head. "No. Connor never had... a wide circle of friends."

"He kept to himself then?"

"Yes. He was always a very quiet boy, even as a baby. He rarely ever cried, but he loved to read." She chuckled for a moment. "Well... that and talking to that lizard of his."

Wait, what? "How do you mean?"

* * *

After seeing the grieving parents off, Ambrose noted Zelda walking up to the house, shovel in hand. "What exactly were the Kemper's doing here?" she asked.

"I had invited them over to inspect my handiwork on their son."

That got him an eye-roll the he felt more than saw. "Oh Ambrose, please tell me that you are not meddling in mortal affairs again?"

"Connor wasn't a mortal. As a matter of fact, I believe that he even had a familiar. An iguana, to be precise."

He then took a second look at the shovel in her hand. Dark Lord, again? "Um...Where's Aunt Hilda?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

She gave a flippant gesture towards the graveyard. "She was starting to get on my nerves, so I bashed in her skull and then buried her in the yard. Now, if you would excuse me, I need another cigar."

* * *

_Later, 9:37 PM_

In the grove where she had been born, Sabrina knelt before the mossy stump, examining the charm that Mr. Wednesday had given her, while Salem sat patiently by her side. It was made from a solid chunk of red stone that seemed to glimmer with an inner radiance. Seven notched had been carved into it.

_Are you sure you want to use that thing? It smells wrong_, Salem said.

"It was either this, or reach out to the Weird Sisters. Besides, Mr. Wednesday told me that it was safe to use. Now hush, I need to focus."

She took the knife she had borrowed from Aunt Zelda, and carved the symbol that Mr. Wednesday had given her into the ground by the stump. After setting the charm into the center of the symbol, she pictured the four bullies in her mind's eye.

Billy Marlen.

Ed Dursley.

Seth Grinwis.

Carl Tapper.

Then, with a deep breath, she sliced the skin on the tip of her finger with her exhalation. It hurt, but only for a moment, as she squeezed her finger, and her bright red blood dripped like tiny rubies onto the charm.

The moment that the blood hit the stone, a cool breeze wafted past her neck, and Salem hissed.

She ignored it, and kept picturing the four, over and over again.

**Billy Marlen.**

**Ed Dursley.**

**Seth Grinwis.**

**Carl Tapper.**

The wind grew fiercer, and she kept her eyes closed, and kept squeezing her finger, until it felt like she had no blood left to give.

_SABRINA! _Salem exclaimed.

Then, the wind seemed to turn into a great roar for a brief moment, and, she could have sworn she heard the sound of mighty wings... and laughter. Dark, mocking laughter.

She opened her eyes, and the winds immediately died down.

She then pocketed the charm, wiped away the blood and symbol, pocketed the now cold charm, stood up, and headed out of the forest, towards where Harvey was waiting for her, Salem close at her heels.

* * *

As Sabrina left, the patch of dirt where she had drawn the symbol briefly glowed, and then faded...

* * *

They sat on the steps of his house, Sabrina and Harvey, just enjoying the feeling of the other's company, and the bag of chips that Harvey had brought with him. Meanwhile, Salem dozed on her lap. Overhead, the moon was nearly full. After a moment, she looked at Harvey, and he looked at her. "You all right?" he asked.

"I think so. Just been a long day."

He nodded. "Y'know, Roz is still having a party tomorrow. Her parents are out of town at some retreat with their church. If you're free, after you're... thing, think you might wanna stop by, or-"

He trailed off at he look on her face. "You still haven't decided, I guess?"

She shook her head. He sighed, and put an arm around her shoulder. "I know I said this already, but I think I should tell you again. No matter what you decide, I won't care. I'll be there for you, no matter what."

She sighed, and looked at him. "If you were in my shoes, Harvey... what would you do, if you were given the chance to do magic, or stay a mortal?"

He looked at her, as if confused by her question. "I... don't know how to answer that Sabrina, partly because I don't think you would be satisfied with either answer, right? I mean, I personally wouldn't go for it, since it sounds like I would be giving up everything else in my life that I like and love, like you... but, like I said, neither answer really helps, does it?"

Darn it, but he was right, as she shook her head. "Still, I know you, Sabrina, and what I do know is that, no matter what you decide... if it's your decision, then its got to be the right one, right?"

Wow.

In that moment, Sabrina was reminded of why she had fallen in love with Harvey Kinkle. With a small smile, she nuzzled up against him in a good hug, which he returned. "Thank you, Harvey."

She then reached for a chip.

Sour cream and onion.

It was absolutely delicious.

* * *

_Like always, there was nothing but darkness, save for a brief glow of light in the far off distance. _

_It was nice here, and peaceful. She liked it here. Sometimes she met other people. Some were nice, others not so much. Most often, she would briefly talk with that nice young Goth girl, who always seemed to be here. She was always very courteous. _

_Sadly, it never lasted, though it was a bit longer every time. _

_It was more a feeling, and less a physical thing, the sensation of wooden and earth roots, coiling tightly about her flesh, and dragging her away, no matter how much she pleaded and wept to just leave her be. _

_Don't take her back! She didn't want to go-_

Her eyes opened, and, when she opened her mouth to scream, a mountain of dirt began to fill her mouth instead...

* * *

Zelda enjoyed the feeling of cigar smoke wafting down her throat as she admired the nearly full moon. Lovely, as always.

The sound of a low groan announced the return of her foolish sister, as Hilda limped up to the front steps. "Zelda," she rasped.

Zelda looked at her reanimated sister in exasperation. "It fucking took long enough, you little fool. I swear, each time, it seems like it takes longer and longer for you to return. Rather rude of you, to be honest. Almost as if you don't want to come back. Admirable, if I didn't know how much of a coward you really are, little sister."

"You.. c-c-can't... k-k-keep... k-killing me," Hilda rasped.

With a groan of exasperation, Zelda rose, and walked down the steps to her sister, so as to better look at her muddy and bloodstained face. Then, she sucked deeply on her cigar, and blew a large ring of smoke into Hilda's face, making her cough, and then slapped her, hard. "You silly, insipid little fool. I am your older sister, and it is my Satan-given right to kill you, over and over again, if I so please. Besides, most of the time, you tend to bring this on yourself, especially with how idiotic you've been behaving as of late."

Was she crying? Zelda felt tempted to slap her again, but restrained herself. "Every time you encourage her to do anything other than join the church of the Night (and yes, I know of _all _the times), you are spitting on the memory of our little brother. Edward entrusted her to our care, _our protection_. If Sabrina does not sign her name in _the Book of the Beast_, then we will have... failed him, we will have failed our Dark Lord, and, most importantly, we will have failed her. Is that what you want, Sister? Is it?"

Hilda hesitantly shook her blood-and-dirt-stained head. "So, let this be a warning to you, my little sister; any silly little doubts or regrets that you might feel... keep them to yourself, from now on. In reality, Sabrina has no real choice in this matter. To think otherwise is nothing but reckless insanity."

She then leaned in, and held the lit end of her cigar threateningly under Hilda's nose. "Am I understood, little sister?"

When Hilda nodded and rasped out "Understood, sister", Zelda then smiled, and gently patted Hilda on the cheek she had just slapped, despite Hilda flinching at her touch.

With that, Zelda turned and walked back towards the house. "Now, go and clean yourself up. You look and smell absolutely disgusting."

* * *

From where she was hiding, Sabrina waited until the two had entered the house...

In her pocket, the coin felt heavy...

* * *

_Friday,_

_October 31st_

_Halloween_

_Sabrina's Birthday_

_THE DAY_

_Now_

When Sabrina finished her morning bath, she returned to her room to find Aunt Hilda putting the finishing touches on a white dress, all the while humming the tune to Happy Birthday.

"Aunt Hilda," she said, briefly startling her aunt. "That's gorgeous."

"It's your mum's wedding dress. I thought that you might wear it tonight, to your baptism."

"But, aren't witches only allowed to wear black to their baptism?" Sabrina asked.

Aunt Hilda gave a small wave of her hand. "Oh, pish and tish. That hasn't been the rule for years. Decades even..." she trailed off when she saw the nervous expression on Sabrina's face. "You know, you really have nothing to be afraid of, my darling."

She walked closer to Sabrina. "I mean, your auntie Zelda and I will be there. And I promise that we will make sure that nothing bad happens to you whatsoever."

Sabrina still did not feel convinced, and Aunt Hilda hesitantly continued. "...And then, you know... you'll see. Tomorrow, you're going to wake up and... You'll just wonder what all the fuss was about in the first place." She finished with a nervous chuckle, and then gently cupped Sabrina's cheek. "You do believe me, right, darling, my sweet, brave girl?"

Sabrina did not know what to say, especially in the face of what she had heard last night. Aunt Hilda then gave a small, sad smile, and hugged her. "I love you, my dear. Always."

_Later_

As Salem noisily ate from his twin bowls of milk and fresh fish, Sabrina nursed her jar of cleanser. Despite herself, she had actually started becoming used to it. Aunt Zelda took a puff from her cigar, swirled a spoon through her morning espresso, and then spoke. "Hilda and I have some errands to run and preparations to complete," she said, as she walked past Salem, which earned her a small growl, which she ignored. "However, not to worry, as I've already called Baxter High to inform them that you are currently suffering from a most terrible outbreak of hives."

Wait, what? As Sabrina stuttered out her confusion, Aunt Zelda took a seat before her. "Wh-why would you do that, Aunt Zelda?" And why did it have to be hives of all things?

Aunt Zelda smiled, and gently cupped Sabrina's chin, as if she were a small girl. "It is quite simple. The day before your dark baptism should be spent in quiet contemplation, as well as a thorough and in-depth study of your satanic verses."

"B-but I haven't said goodbye to my friends yet," Sabrina protested. "I can't just... vanish from their lives without any explanation. At the bare minimum, I have to tell them that I'm-"

"Transferring to some posh and private boarding school in Connecticut?" Ambrose interjected.

Aunt Zelda gave a flippant wave with her cigar holding hand "Oh, it's fine. You can just send them a postcard. Meanwhile, Ambrose will stay here, to keep you company, and to keep an eye on you. Isn't that right, _Ambrose?"_

Ambrose looked up from his bowl of cornflakes; spoon halfway to his mouth, no doubt just as surprised as Sabrina. He opened his mouth, and Aunt Zelda flashed him a tight smile. Reluctantly, he flashed one back. "But of course, Auntie Zee. It will be a pleasure."

* * *

Lilith had not seen Sabrina Spellman in her class this morning. So, she decided to find out why. The best place to do so was through the interim principal.

As hoped, there was the interim principal, Mrs. Meeks, hunched over her desk like a mousy little owl. Plastering a smile on her stolen lips, Lilith tiptoed into the office, and lightly tapped on the desk, which made Mrs. Meeks jump. "M-Mrs. Wardwell?"

"Hi. So sorry to disturb you, but Sabrina Spellman wasn't in homeroom this morning, and I was just wondering if you had heard from her at all."

Meeks blinked her large, owlish eyes, and then slowly nodded. "Actually, I did. Well, actually, it was from her aunt."

So, she was staying at home? "Oh?"

"Yes. Zelda? Hilda? Well, one of them called to say that Sabrina's just feeling a bit under the weather, and thus will be staying home today."

Excellent. "Oh, the poor dear, and on her birthday no less."

She then chuckled. "Oh, well, can't be helped, I suppose."

Then, so as not to arouse suspicion, she reached out, grabbed a small handful of candy-corn form the bowl on Meeks' desk, and then slowly backed out of the office, being sure to have nice and charming smile on all the while. "Have a wonderful day, Mrs. Meeks," she said to the small woman, waving at her as she backed out. "Happy Halloween."

* * *

_Later_

Sabrina felt restless, being on glorified house arrest. So, like most people, when she felt trapped, she started to pace. Ambrose, meanwhile, was simply lounging on the couch, watching her pace back and forth.

"I mean, I'll still be able to see them, won't I, Ambrose?" Sabrina asked as she paced. "Roz, Susie, and Harvey? I mean, just because we're not at the same school, that is no reason to assume that we have to stop be friends, right?"

He just stared at her. "I mean, sure, I'll go to the Academy of Unseen Arts during the week, but, I mean, on the weekends-"

"On the weekends, you will still be a witch, little cousin," Ambrose finished.

"What? No, no, I know, but, I mean, we'll still be able to go to the movies, same as always, and-and bowling and all the fun things that we always do together."

Ambrose groaned at that. "Ugh, but of course, Auntie Cain and Auntie Abel would leave it up to me to explain the hard and tough bits." He then sat up, clapped his hands together, and took a deep breath. "Look, doing that, consorting with mortals... it is discouraged, it is frowned upon."

"But you talk to mortals. Hell, Aunt Zelda and Aunt Hilda, they talk to mortals all the time."

"Yeah, we do... but only for work, or in passing. What we don't do is forge and establish meaningful and deep connections with them. The coven forbids that sort of thing, and they will do their best to make sure that rule is upheld and enforced."

"Really? What are they going to do, put a spell on me if I go to the mall with Harvey or something?"

A nervous expression came into his eye, and he was now doing his best not to look directly at her, all the while rubbing his hands together.

The sardonic smile slowly dropped from Sabrina's face. "I mean, they wouldn't actually do that... right? Ambrose?"

He sighed, as she sat down in front of him. "Think of it like this... after your baptism, it's as though a thick veil is hung between you and the mortal world. Then, eventually, and quite quickly, you're... weaned from it, for lack of a better term."

"That's ridiculous. I won't ever forget them."

"You say that, but you'll want to... or else all the pain would become too much for you to bear."

What pain? "What pain? Why would it be painful?"

"For you, time will slow down. As they age and thicken and grey, you will remain the same. They'll grow old, and you won't. Not just that, but all those things that are so important to them, they will become... small, insignificant, and trivial to you. You'll understand it, the longer that you're a witch, but..." he paused for a moment, as if her were recalling his own past. "Just... it's just better to forget the mortal world... and only thing of what lies ahead of you... and be ready for it."

Through all of that, Sabrina felt warm tears running down her cheeks. She wanted to deny it all, that she would be different, but... she just could not find it within herself to say anything. Instead, she wiped at her eyes and strode out of the room. "Where are you going?" Ambrose asked.

"To call Harvey. I'm going to have one last night with my friends."

* * *

Harvey had been worried, when Sabrina did not show up for school today. He then wondered if it had something to do with what was to happen tonight. He wished there was something he could do, to help, or even just be there for her... wait, maybe there was. So, once the school bell rang to signal the end of the week, and the start of the weekend, he headed to Mr. Wednesday's office.

"Can I help you, Mr. Kinkle?" the history teacher asked, as he sorted through papers, and as Harvey entered his office.

"Yeah, it's about Sabrina... she wasn't here today. Was it about her... thing tonight?"

Mr. Wednesday looked at him for a moment, then sighed, and took off his glasses. "Shut the door, Mr. Kinkle, and take a seat."

Harvey did so. "I know that, earlier, you offered to help me understand her world. And... I think I'm ready. From what she's told me, her whole world is going to change, and, well, I just want to help her, in any way that I can. So...Can you help me, help me to understand it, her world?" Harvey asked.

Mr. Wednesday gently tapped his fingers on his desk. "Before I answer that, I need to be sure that _you _are absolutely sure that this is something you want to do. Because once you catch a even a glimpse of the world of Night, there can be no going back, and you can never be the same. Your perception of the world around you will be forever altered, for good and ill and maybe how you see your young love. Are you prepared for that, Mr. Kinkle? Would you be willing to stay by her side, like a loyal hound, no matter what trials and tribulations may be thrown her way?"

"...I'm sure." There was no other answer.

Mr. Wednesday smiled. "Excellent! Then, after the Halloween party that you are attending tonight, near to midnight, meet me by the edge of the forest. I shall have what I need for this by then. Until then, enjoy your Halloween, my boy. Now shoo, I still have a heavy load of papers and worksheets to sift through."

As Harvey left, he got a call from Sabrina...

* * *

_Later, Halloween night, before the Baptism_

Harvey walked up the steps to the Spellman house, ready in his miner costume.

Her cousin Ambrose answered the door with a smirk. "How clever. You come dressed as your future."

Okay, he was not going to pretend that that did not sting bit, but still, Harvey took it with a grin.

Then, Ambrose turned and hollered into the house. "Sabrina!"

Harvey walked in and closed the door behind him. "Yeah, um, it was kind of last minute. Borrowed it from my brother."

"Don't worry about it mate, was just teasing. You look great," Ambrose assured.

"Oh, uh, thanks. You know, you can come to the party with us, if you want?"

Ambrose smirked, and he leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Thank you very much for the invitation, but, if I am to risk eternal banishment to the nether-realm, since Sabrina has already told you about us, it will have to be for smoothing much grander than a high-school masquerade."

Harvey had to remind himself that Ambrose was on the magical equivalent of house arrest. Sabrina had told him that Ambrose knew that he knew, but, still... what could one say to that?

"Witches have house arrest?" Yep, that was one thing he could say.

As Ambrose smirked at that, and tugged at his coat's lapels briefly, Sabrina's voice called out. "Ignore him, Harvey, he actually wishes that he could come with us."

Harvey and Ambrose turned to where she was standing and... wow.

Just wow.

...

...

...Wow!

There she stood, at the top of the stairs, in a white dress that she made look better just by wearing it.

She looked amazing, radiant, stunning, and a bunch of other words.

Wow!

* * *

Sabrina hoped that she looked all right. When she saw Harvey dressed as a miner, she thought that he just looked so adorable, though she also liked how he filled it out.

For a moment, they just looked at each other. "I didn't have a costume, but is this okay?"

Harvey seemed dumbstruck for a moment. Really, it seemed as if his jaw was on the floor. Then, he finally spoke. "You're... you're beautiful," he said, breathlessly.

They both then smiled, as he walked up to her. "Happy Halloween, and happy birthday, and happy... everything," he said, as he looked into her eyes, in a moment that she wanted to never end-

The clearing of Ambrose's throat kind of ruined the moment. "Well, if you're planning on leaving... then leave now, before Zelda and Hilda come home an eat you." He looked at Harvey as he said that last bit.

Harvey's eyes widened in confusion at that, and Ambrose turned back to Sabrina. "Not to worry, I'll just explain to them that you will meet them at the appointed hour and place. But, remember cousin, if you're late... the blue flames will burn you."

For crying out loud, did he have to be so dramatic about it? "I won't be," she said, adamantly. "Also, thank you, Ambrose."

With that, she took Harvey's hand, and led him out the door. As he put his arm about her, he asked, "Uh, he was kidding about the eating and blue flames thing... right?"

"Um... don't worry about it. Just a joke."

"Not a joke," Ambrose called out, as they walked out the door.

* * *

On the way there, Harvey had given her his jacket to wear, putting his solid arms on display, as well as the cute overalls that he was wearing. When they entered, the party was already in full swing. Everyone's costumes looked absolutely fantastic. Roz had even been there to greet them at the door, while dressed up as an Egyptian goddess. She had been ecstatic to see that Sabrina could make it, though, after seeing that Sabrina was wearing a wedding dress, had made a slightly cringe-worthy quip about Sabrina and Harvey eloping.

Even Susie had managed to come, dressed as Dracula, being able to sneak out form her family's farm, due to the fact that her father, being a farmer, was always asleep by eight. She was in good spirits, and had even confessed to Sabrina that she was actually looking forward to a rematch with Billy and his goons.

Hopefully though, if Mr. Wednesday's charm worked, there would be no need for that.

For a while, Sabrina just let herself get swept away with the party, the candy, and the dancing. Roz had even gotten her a birthday cake, and everyone sang happy birthday!

Soon enough, they reached the part of a dancing party where everyone had to slow dance with their significant other, and so, Sabrina danced in Harvey's embrace, their eyes only looking at the others. It was a perfect feeling. 'So, what did you wish for," he asked, as she leaned her head against his firm shoulder.

Reluctantly, she pulled her head away and looked up at him. "Just... more of this."

He smiled, his eyes full of understanding.

The corners of her eyes felt a bit wet, though no tears were falling. "No matter what happens tonight... Harvey, promise that you won't forget me," she whispered.

He looked a bit somber at her reminding him of what was to happen tonight, but then he smiled again. "That would be impossible, Sabrina, because you are unforgettable."

They kept swaying. "Do you also promise not to hate me, no matter what happens?"

He looked into her eyes, and she looked into his. "I promise," he whispered.

For a while, nothing more was said, and they just held each other tight.

Then, Roz ushered everyone outside. The blood-moon, it was starting!

Then, Sabrina realized what time it almost was. She gestured at his watch. "Harvey, I have to go now."

For a moment, he seemed spaced out; entranced by the moon, and her yanking on his arm brought him back. "Oh, right, right, the thing. Um... maybe I can take you there?"

"No, no, you can't, I'm sorry."

"Right, right, sorry, forgot about that part."

Sabrina looked at him for a moment. "I love you, Harvey, now and forever."

She then reached up, and pulled his head down towards her, and they locked lips in a most passionate kiss.

Up in the night sky, the moon continued to turn from white to red...

* * *

Harvey watched the girl he loved as she hurried away for a moment, and then headed to the forest.

Sure enough, there was Mr. Wednesday, at the edge of the forest, apparently drawing something in the ground. As Harvey approached, Mr. Wednesday looked up and smiled. "Ah, Mr. Kinkle. Glad that you made it. I was honestly a bit afraid that you would back out.

"No sir. I intend to go through with this, if this will help me help Sabrina in any way."

Mr. Wednesday nodded at that. "Excellent. Now, before we enter this forest I need to make one thing absolutely clear; you must follow my every instruction. If I tell you to run, you start running as fast as your legs can carry you. Also, under no circumstance, are you to make any sound if you are more than two feet from me, as the enchantment I shall cast upon us will then vanish, and if that should happen..."

Harvey did not want to think about what would happen. "I understand."

"Good." Mr. Wednesday then held out a long string of red ribbon. Small little symbols had been drawn into it. "Step into the circle that I've just drawn, and wrap this around your wrist three times, and keep it wrapped tight. Then, once I have done the same, follow me."

As Harvey took the ribbon, and did what he was told, a brief sensation of cold lanced its way across his spine. He then looked at his hands. They were, to his shock, slightly transparent. It looked like the invisibility spell form a video game, or Dungeons and Dragons.

He then looked at Mr. Wednesday, who was equally transparent. "Very good. Now, let us depart..."

* * *

Sabrina ran as fast as she could through the forest, Mr. Wednesday's coin, which she had brought with her, heavy in the pocket of her dress. She would not be late, she would not be late!

Then, she slowed to a slow walk. A small arch of trees waited before her, and form the other side of the archway hung an old witch symbol. In the distance, she could see the soft glow of firelight.

She took out the coin from her pocket and held it firmly.

As she walked under the archway, she started to hear voices.

As she reached the exit of the first archway, she saw the moon, overhead, and Goosebumps started making their way across her flesh.

Ahead, she saw three robed figures pacing around a campfire. She then looked down, and watched in horrid fascination as her white dress slowly turned black. Meanwhile, the wind began to pick up.

Then, up from the ground sprouted a second archway of twisted and bent trees, only this one was wreathed in blue flame, like Ambrose had warned. A small portion of her mind screamed at her to turn and run away, as fast and as far as she could go, but the rest of her mind simply made her walk forward, through the archway.

They did not burn at all, and the coin felt warm.

The moment she was through, the flames went out, and she saw before her a large gathering of witches and warlocks, all gathers, and chanting and talking in low tones.

Still, she walked forward...

* * *

Harvey's eyes widened in fear at what he saw; a large gathering of men and women. Some were dressed all in black, and others wore nothing at all, save for strange and terrible animal masks. Some danced around fires, and others were gathered in small groups, talking, chanting, or... being intimate.

Mr. Wednesday hand was tight upon his ribbon, wrapped arm. _"Not a single sound," _he whispered, as they slowly approached the edge of the clearing.

Harvey was not sure if breathing heavily counted. Then, he saw her, Sabrina. Her dress, it had, somehow, turned black. There was a part of him that wanted to call out to her, to flee from this terrible scene.

"Watch," Mr. Wednesday whispered.

* * *

As Sabrina got closer, all activity in the gathering stopped, and everyone there then turned to look at her. She got closer, and saw her aunts, both in beautiful gowns, standing with Father Blackwood, who was garbed in the robes of High Priest, and they were standing before an unholy altar. He then slowly turned to look at her, and all sound seemed to stop.

"Welcome, Daughter of Night," he said.

The coin suddenly dropped in temperature, and Sabrina felt like she could not move.

Blackwood then raised his head. "Who here presents this child for unholy baptism?" he inquired.

Standing behind her, Aunt Zelda and Aunt Hilda then answered. "We do, Your Excellency."

Aunt Zelda then tut-tutted under her breath. "Late for your own baptism? Honestly..."

"You look lovely, darling," Aunt Hilda whispered.

Blackwood nodded. "Disrobe her, sisters."

A moment later, Sabrina was standing barefoot, and only in her slip. No one noticed the coin still clutched in her hand. It felt icy cold.

To her disgust, it looked as if Blackwood had... licked his lips as she was being disrobed.

Then, he raised his head, and began to speak. "Brothers and sisters of the Night... we are gathered here together, in these woods, in the presence of our Dark Lord, with all these souls of our coven, both the living and the dead: The Most Unholy Church of the Night."

He then looked back at her. "Kneel, child."

Slowly, she did. One of Blackwood's attendants then stepped forward with an ornate golden bowl cupped in her hands. The High Priest dipped his thumb into it. As he raised his hand, Sabrina saw that it was blood.

He then stepped closer to her. "Our Dark Lord teaches us..." as he spoke, he began to slowly smear the blood across her forehead in the sign of the unholy cross. The coin felt beyond icy, but she did not let it go. "...That there is no law beyond. Do what thou wilt."

_It is your choice. _The coin felt warm.

Blackwood continued to speak. "Our Dark Lord asks: Would you like to be happy, child? To be free? Free to love, and free to hate? To be what nature intended you to be, to her laws and yourself only?"

Instead of instantly answering, Sabrina looked about. She heard a goat bleating, and, in the distance, the sound of thunder, and ravens cawing-

"Sabrina," came her Aunt Zelda's sharp voice, snapping her back.

Sabrina quickly looked back up at Father Blackwood. "Yes, Father," she said.

He spoke some more. "Do you believe in Lucifer, the archangel, who preferred the loss of Heaven to that of his pride?"

"Yes, Father."

"In exchange for this belief, you shall be granted powers that will enable you to be of service to the Dark Lord..."

* * *

Harvey watched as the priest then asked Sabrina if she would be willing to only walk the path of Night, and if she was willing to place the Dark Lord above everything else in her life?

As he and Mr. Wednesday watched, Harvey began to shake.

All of this, it was like back in the mines.

Despite himself, he silently begged Sabrina to run away, as fast as she could.

Mr. Wednesday's grip remained tight on his wrist.

* * *

"I... I am," Sabrina answered, in response to Father Blackwood's question.

He looked at her for a long moment, and then nodded. "Very well. Then, it is time to sign His Book." He offered her his hand, and helped her to her feet. Then, he proceeded to lead her to the altar.

There it was, a large, leather-bound tome with a bone-quill laying upon it, and an empty space for her name. Blackwood then took her hand that he was holding, and lightly cut across it with a knife. As the knife parted flesh, she bit back a groan of pain. Then, the vision from the _mallum malus _flashed before her eyes.

_... the forest on fire..._

..._Women hanging from the branches by their necks, flies buzzing about their corpses..._

_... A fiery arrow, shot straight towards the looming sky..._

_Wait, what?_

Blackwood guided her hand over the book, and a few drops of blood dripped onto the page. He then chanted under his breath, and the cut closed up. "In signing His book, _The Book of the Beast_, you swear to obey without question any order you might receive from the Dark Lord, or from _any _figure that he has placed in authority over you."

Wait, what? No. "That... that's not what you said before."

He ignored her. "In signing your name in _the Book of the Beast, _you swear to give your mind, body, and soul unreservedly to the furtherance of the designs of our Lord Satan."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the goat-headed demon from the vision, leering and snarling at her, almost impatiently. All around her, all the witches and warlocks seemed to lean in, almost hungrily.

This was not what she wanted. "You said that I would have free will."

He put the quill in her hand, and guided it down to the blood.

In her other hand, she was gripping the coin so tightly, she actually felt the edges cut into her skin, and blood begin to drip down her palm.

Then, a single drop fell onto the ground...

* * *

As Harvey watched he rise, and approach the book, everyone began to... change. He blinked, and, in the clearing were not people... but monsters. Terrible, horrific things, too awful to even describe, with horns and claws and fangs and scales and...

Then, he saw her, Sabrina. It was if her skin was that of the sun itself. She was glowing like a newborn star, and she was so beautiful. Yet, somehow, Harvey knew that if she signed that book, that light would be snuffed out.

Before he could stop himself, and Mr. Wednesday could grab him again, Harvey opened his mouth...

* * *

Closer and closer, the quill lowered towards the blood, and more visions flashed before her eyes, and more screams rang in her ears, and thunder boomed and crashed, and the beast snarled, and it was too much, too muchtoomuchtoomuchtoomuch...

**_Believe_**

**Tell me... are you my master?**

Then, at that moment, she pulled away, and the crowd gasped.

Another drop of blood dripped from her other hand, and onto the ground. "I can't do this," she said.

A look of scorn and anger etched itself onto Father Blackwood's features. "You _must_," he all but snarled.

"Sabrina," it was Aunt Zelda, and her voice was filled with disdain. "Don't you dare."

"Darling?" Aunt Hilda asked.

This was wrong, it was all so wrong. How could they not see it? Lighting crashed, and then, before her, there were not witches and warlocks, but monsters, horrible, frightening monsters all around her, twitching and drooling.

She then looked to her left... there they stood her parents, and their mouths were moving, but she could not hear them.

Lightning flashed, and the monsters drew closer.

* * *

He watched in horror as the monsters began to slowly swarm around her. He could not remain silent any longer, and he took a step, and crunched a twig. "SABRINA, RUN!"

* * *

"SABRINA, RUN!" her father and mother seemed to scream, overlaid with what seemed like Harvey's voice, as the sound of a single twig breaking echoed throughout the clearing.

Lighting flashed, as everyone looked up to see where the voice had come from, and the monsters were gone, replaced with normal witches and warlocks. "I'm sorry, aunties," she sobbed.

Then she ran.

* * *

As the clearing fell into chaos, Mr. Wednesday, grabbed Harvey's arm again. "Run," he hissed.

And so they ran, no longer silent.

* * *

Faustus Blackwood was beyond furious. Who had screamed at her to run? They had been so close. "Get her," he bellowed, "and find whoever shouted! There are trespassers among us! Find them and kill them!"

The Dark Lord was not going to be pleased.

* * *

She ran.

She ran, and she ran, and she ran, and she kept running. The Trees tried to entangle her with vines and thorns. It tried to pull her to the ground, and started to drag her, but then, the coin still tight in her grasp, she broke free, and scrambled to her feet. The coin was as hot as a coal, but she did not let it go.

* * *

Ambrose had just reached a juicy bit when he heard Sabrina's voice, screaming out his name. "AMBROSE!"

His head shot up, and saw her disheveled figure sprinting towards the house as fast as she could run.

Oh no. "Sabrina!" Without a second thought, he vaulted over the railing, and ran towards, though remembering just in time to not pass the lamppost, joined by Salem.

Sabrina called out his name once more, and then came to a halt, bent over and panting. Ambrose idly noted that her left fist, which was bleeding, was firmly clutching something, but that was not important at the moment.

Sabrina took a few deep breaths, while Salem curled around her protectively. "Ambrose," she gasped. "You won't- you won't believe what just happened."

He looked over her shoulder, and he then felt the chill of fear shooting through his body like bad cocaine. "I think I can make s strong guess, little cousin. Behind you."

All around the gate stood torch-bearing witches. Form the throng emerged Father Blackwood, a look of fury upon his face, and _The Book of The Beast_ cradled in his hands. "While the blood moon still shines, you _must _sign your name in _The Book Of the Beast."_

Oh no.

To her credit, even as the mob drew closer, Ambrose watched as Sabrina then straightened her back, and stared Father Blackwood dead in the eye. At her feet, Salem hissed, his hackles standing straight up "No," she declared. "I will not."

That actually made the mob recoil a bit, from shock if nothing else. "There is another path for me, just as there was for my father and mother. A Third way!"

* * *

Sabrina then took a step forward, still clutching the coin so tightly that, at this point, it felt as if it would erupt through the other side of her hand. "And even if there isn't... my name is Sabrina Spellman, and I _will not sign my name away!_ "

Overhead, there was another sound of thunder.

* * *

As the thunder boomed, and he and young Harvey kept running, Wednesday smiled.

* * *

Despite himself, Ambrose could not help but feel an immense amount of joy and pride for his little cousin.

* * *

Then, the look upon Blackwood's face turned wrathful as he slammed the book shut with a loud thud, and he motioned for his three helpers, the thrice-damned Weird Sisters, to apprehend Sabrina. She could see the smiles on their face as they started walking forward.

Despite how tired she felt, Sabrina was not afraid, and God damn it, she was ready to go down swinging-

"A circle of protection rings around this house!" Ambrose suddenly shouted.

The Weird sisters kept walking. "And no witch save for a Spellman may cross it! Any unwelcome witch that tries shall burn!"

That made them stop, but what was he talking about? "So please," Ambrose continued. "Go ahead!"

For a long moment, no one said anything. Then, one warlock laughed and started stranding forth. "Bugger-shit, he's lying. There's no protective-"

He never got the chance to finish his sentence as, in that moment, a bolt of lightning arched down, right upon him. He screamed for but a moment, and then, there was nothing left of him but charred remains.

Everyone looked upon the corpse with something akin to fear. Then, Father Blackwood seemed to gather himself, shrugged, and motioned for everyone to fall back.

As the rest of the witches and warlocks walked away, soon it was only Aunt Zelda, Aunt Hilda, Ambrose, Salem, and Sabrina.

Sabrina then turned to Ambrose as their aunts approached. "Uh... when did you put a protection on the house?"

"I... I didn't" he stuttered out, his eyes still glued to the charred remains of the dead warlock.

"Then what was that?" she asked, gesturing towards the charred corpse.

"I... I don't know. Dumb luck?" He then seemed to gather himself. "But, as for the protection, I think that I will go and draw one up right now then."

As he walked back up to the house, Aunt Zelda and Aunt Hilda strode past Sabrina without saying a single word.

Soon enough, it was only her and Salem that were still outside. In the cold. In her bare feet, and slip.

What a fucking night.

* * *

He did not know for how long they had ran, Wednesday's grip unrelenting, pulling him along, but all Harvey could think about was what he had seen. All that horror, all that... _evil. _

Finally, they came to a stop, and, the next thing Harvey knew, he was starting to puke. For a long while, all that could be heard was the sound of him entering the contents of his stomach

"I am sorry that you had to see all that, my boy," Mr. Wednesday said, as Harvey finished puking, once they had stopped running for a moment. "But, if it makes you feel any better, she did refuse to sign her name. Her soul is safe, for now. Now, you have an idea of her world. Are you sure you still wish to follow her, down the path that is the Path of Night?"

Harvey did not know what to think. That scene, it reminded him of that night, in the mines, as well as his dreams... But, Mr. Wednesday was right, he had seen Sabrina refuse. That was good right?

So, despite himself, he nodded. This was Sabrina. He would follow her anywhere.

Mr. Wednesday patted him on the shoulder. "Good lad. If there were more like you, then the world would be a better place. Now then, we should get going. We probably only have a moment before..."

"Going somewhere, interlopers?"

The voice sent a bolt of fear through Harvey's mind, and he and Wednesday slowly turned to see a small group of the men and women from the baptism, standing before them.

They were trapped. One of the witches in front, an ugly and pretty-looking man, stepped forward. "For trespassing upon the sacred ceremony that is the Dark Baptism, you two mortals are hereby sentenced to death. Have you any final words?"

Before Harvey could even open his mouth, a jolt of pain lanced through his spine and sent him tumbling to the ground as a wave of agony washed over him, and he screamed...

What... was... happening?

What... was...

_Hunger._

_PREY!_

* * *

As Harvey contorted and writhed on the ground, Waver Wednesday looked up at the night sky… More specifically, at the moon.

The still very round, very red, and very full, moon.

He then turned to the witches and warlocks who had managed to find them, who were watching the scene before them with horrid fascination. "A bit of history for you all, before you proceed to try and kill us. In the old days, when the connection between gods and man was much more solid, many animal gods roamed the wild and untamed lands. Among them, were the gods of the wolf, and among those lupine gods, was the one known as Fenrir.

"Now, Fenrir was a proud and lustful beast, and, as many gods in those days were wont to do, he took in his lust, many lovers, both willing and unwilling. Among the human females that he bedded/ raped, many bore his seed to term, and they gave birth. These children grew up with strange and lupine abilities, and they seemed to cycle in accordance with the moon, especially a red moon like this, sometimes called a wolf moon."

Harvey was now screaming even louder, as his bones seemed to expand, break, and reknit themselves beneath his skin, as bloody claws popped out his nails, and his mouth exploded into a mass of bloody fangs. Meanwhile, fur was spreading over his expanding body, and his size and girth multiplied five-fold.

Wednesday tapped his fingers against his chin, as if trying to recall his next fact. "Now, what was the term for these creatures again, these descendants? Lupus Dei? Skinwalkers? It's on the tip of my tongue..."

As he snapped his fingers, the witches and warlocks all recoiled in fear as the thing that Harvey Kinkle had transformed into rose to its full, great, and snarling height. "Ah yes, now I remember. They were called the children of Fenrir. Or, if you prefer… werewolves."

The small group of witches and Warlocks started to scream, as the werewolf that was Harvey Kinkle pounced upon them with a deafening roar.

Wednesday began to whistle a happy old tune as blood and spells and viscera began to fly all about. Meanwhile, he took out his pipe and began to fish around for a match. He knew he had one somewhere, and you just did not get the same amount of flavor from a lighter as you did a match.

He idly noted as one of the witches started to drag herself away from the slaughter towards him, pleading in her eye, and her lower legs were bloody ruins.

As she was then dragged back, all Wednesday did was tip his hat in her direction, and then he lit his pipe, filling his lungs with the sweet and smoky sensation of tobacco. It was a very pleasant feeling.

Huh, the way that one warlock's head was ripped from his shoulders, it made for an interesting bit of arterial spray. No matter what they did or what spells they flung, nothing seemed to stop the beast.

It was most entertaining to watch.

Eventually, the screams stopped, and there were no sounds save for the snapping of the beast's jaws as it set about eating the corpses. Wednesday gave an appreciative clap at the sight. The beast sniffed the air, and then loped off into the night.

Wednesday leaned there, against the tree, for a moment after, looking over the carnage. He then chuckled, and strode off.

* * *

_Prey._

_Hunger._

_All around, it could smell prey, and blood, and flesh. _

_All was meat, and all was to be consumed! _

_The black-souls had been filling, but it was still hungry. It needed to eat more flesh, more blood and bone._

_Hungry but had to be far away from trickster one-eye. _

_Hungry._

* * *

Lilith knelt in submission before the fireplace in Wardwell's cottage, the cross the hung over the mantle now inverted, as was right.

But, that was not important. What was important was that she had failed, and she was well aware of it. "I have failed you," she sobbed. "I have failed you, Dark Lord, and for that, I deserve no mercy... But please, show me your mercy, please. Please, I beg of you."

Suddenly, the door to the cottage creaked open. It then shut, and heavy footsteps filled the room, as they drew closer, and closer, and closer.

She felt his presence, smelled his divine musk, and heard his snarl of displeasure.

_Thud_

_Thud_

_Thud_

He circled around her, but she dared not look up. She dared not, and kept her eyes towards the ground. Covered by his shadow, she prostrated herself, and then... he extended forward his hoof.

Tears of relief and gratitude then dripped down her cheeks. "Thank you, " she sobbed. "I am not worthy of even a fraction of your love... but still, I shall kiss your beautiful feet."

She did so, and his hoof tasted of ash and brimstone. It was positively hellish.

She then slowly rose. "I will not stumble again my lord. I swear to you. You shall have the girl. I swear that Sabrina Spellman will be yours."

As she rose, she looked up, and beheld her lord in all his bestial glory. "I so swear. Thy Will shall be done."

* * *

_Monday_

_November 3rd_

_Now_

As Sabrina quietly walked into the kitchen, she was met with an awkward silence, with Aunt Zelda reading her morning paper while her cigar smoldered in the ashtray, aunt Hilda hunched over the stove, and Ambrose reading a book.

As she entered, the awkwardness only intensified. "Morning," she said.

"Oh, uh, blessed morning, child, " Aunt Hilda mumbled, before returning her attention to her cooking.

"Morning, cousin," murmured Ambrose.

Only Aunt Zelda did not say anything. Indeed, she had not said a word to Sabrina all weekend, and had given her generous helpings of the cold shoulder.

As Sabrina sat at her usual seat at the table, Aunt Zelda looked at her out of the corner of her eye, and then angled her paper between her and Sabrina.

Wow, that was kind of childish. Sabrina glanced around the paper. The coin in her pocket was neither hot nor cold, just... lukewarm.

All right, time to bite the bullet. "Come on Aunt Zelda, are you really never going to speak to me again?"

"...You want me to speak, child?" her aunt said, acid dripping from every syllable.

Then, with an angered huff, Aunt Zelda folded up her newspaper, and stared her right in the eye, even as she took a long sip from her espresso. "All right then, I'll speak."

She then leaned back, as everyone in the room prepared for the inevitable tongue-lashing that was coming Sabrina's way. Aunt Zelda took a single draw from her cigar, exhaled, and then leaned back and began. "You _humiliated_ us all in front of the entire coven. You have brought dishonor upon Spellman family name, you ungrateful and disobedient little brat."

"Excuse, but Father Blackwood lied to me, Aunt Zelda," Sabrina bravely said. "He sat there, in our parlor, and told me, to my face, that I would always have a choice, that our religion was based on free will. But, in the woods, all of that... that was the exact opposite of free will."

Aunt Zelda continued on, unmoved by Sabrina's reasoning. "And beyond that, your refusal to sign your name in _The Book of the Beast_ goes against your father's explicit and final wishes."

"Yeah, you say that, but, honestly? I don't thank that's true."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm sorry, but... out there, in the woods, during the ceremony, I saw two figures who looked a lot like my mom and dad."

"What, like some sort of spectral vision?" Ambrose asked.

Sabrina shrugged. "I'm not really sure, but... they definitely did not want me to sign my name in _the Book of The Beast._ Instead... they wanted me to run."

As she said this, her Aunts and cousin looked at each other as they processed this new information. Yet, even as she said this, Sabrina also wondered why, when her parents had told her to run, she had heard Harvey's voice as well...

* * *

_And so the girl who had to decide between being a witch and being a mortal...chose neither path. Or, perhaps, if you were to look at it another way, she chose both. She was half-witch, but with two covens. _

* * *

Sabrina had felt very happy to step into the halls of Baxter high. The club had even already gathered some of its first member, including a very happy and very grateful Susie. Sabrina also noted that Billy Marlin and his cronies had not arrived.

Maybe Mr. Wednesday's charm had worked?

Mrs. Wardwell, meanwhile, had been acting a bit odd, but, then again, she was Mrs. Wardwell. Still, it was nice of her to want to attend every meeting of WICCA, even though he wasn't required to.

Then, Sabrina was called to the principal's office. Apparently, Principal Hawthorne (who was back) wanted to speak with her.

Great.

As she traversed through the hallways, she saw Harvey. He was leaning against his locker, eating what seemed to be a protein bar. His back was to her, so he did not see her. "Harvey," she called out. He turned at his name. Gosh, he looked... haggard. More tired than usual, and, was he limping? But, still, she was just happy to see him, though his eyes widened a bit at her being here. "Sabrina?" "Oh my gosh," she said, as she went to him. They embraced, and held each other tight. "So... you're still here," he said. "Yeah. It... Didn't go well," she said, as he cradled her against his chest.

"Oh... okay."

She looked up at him. "Are you okay? You don't look good?"

Instead of answering, he was just... staring at her. The bags under his eyes looked deeper than normal. "Harvey?"

* * *

He looked at her, and she was glowing, like she was made from the sun and the moon. Every inch of her was enveloped in radiant light. He should have been blinded, and yet, it did not hurt for him to look at, even as memories of the previous weekend still flashed through his mind, and he could hear the screams, and the taste of blood in his mouth, and his nose was filled with strange smells and so much noise.

She was beautiful, and she made everything seem bearable.

"Harvey? Are you okay?" the glowing being asked.

He blinked, and now she was not glowing.

* * *

He gave her a tired smile. "Yeah... yeah, I'm fine. Just not sleeping well. Bit of a headache, but I'm fine. What about you, though? Um... what happened?"

She looked at him and sighed. "I'll tell you everything as soon as I can, but, I'm gonna need you, Harvey, no matter what happens."

He hugged her again, and the gently cupped her face with his hand. "Don't worry about that. I'll always be here for you, 'Brina. Always. You know that."

She smiled, as she enjoyed the feel of his hand against her cheek. "I do. I so do."

They then kissed, right there in the hallway, rules about PDA be damned. His kiss felt nice, but also tasted... meaty?

Huh, must have been the protein bar.

Then, reluctantly breaking the kiss, she ran off.

* * *

He watched her go, and the further she got from him, the more the smells and sensations and noises returned. His hand started to shake, and, as he looked at it, for a moment, it was clawed and bloody.

What... what was going on?

* * *

Sabrina sat quietly in front of Hawthorne's desk. He had not even looked up when she entered. After a moment longer, and a squeeze of her coin for luck, she cleared her throat. "You... you wanted to see me, sir?"

He nodded. "I did indeed. About that outrageous club of yours-"

Suddenly, all the noise in the room stopped. The clock even stopped mid-tick.

What was going on?

Sabrina looked at the frozen clock. Then, back at Hawthorne, and she gasped in shock. Bloody tears were dripping from his eyes, and foamy saliva was gushing from his mouth, as if he had been poisoned.

"P...Principal Hawthorne?"

Then, he jerked back and groaned and moaned, as if he were having a seizure. Sabrina watched in horror as he danced about, like a puppet on a string. Then, he stopped, and began to pant, like... like a beast. A moment later, he growls, and jerked back to look at her.

Oh no.

The coin grew colder than outer space, in her pocket.

"...Dark Lord?" she whispered.

"**I admire your defiance, girl, **the Devil said through the body of the principal. **"But it is a futile gesture. You will sign my book. In fact, when the time comes, you will _BEG _to sign it." **

"That's... I-I don't think so," she managed to choke out. "That... that won't happen."

**"Foolish child, do you think that this is some sort of a game, a fun, fairground contest?" **He leaned in closer. "**Do you honestly believe that you can defeat me? You cannot. And would you like to know why? It is because your flesh is mortal and weak, and, like all weak and mortal flesh... in the end, it. Will. BURN!"**

* * *

_Earlier_

_November 1st_

_A few minutes after Sabrina Spellman's refusal_

The clearing was empty. All the witches and warlocks had returned to their homes, in the wake of Sabrina Spellman's refusal to sign the _Book of the Beast_.

It was still, and quiet.

Then, in the center, near the mossy, rotting stump, non-existence warped and twisted into reality, and from that reality stepped forth a man.

Brushing his red hair out from his eyes, he looked around, and then zeroed into where the blood of Sabrina Spellman, from where she had been gripping the coin, had splashed onto the ground.

He ben down, and dipped a finger into the still-wet blood. Then, he brought it to his lips, sniffed it, and then licked his finger clean. As he did, the sigil that Sabrina had traced into the ground, the night she had cursed those football players, sprang to life.

A smile split the red-haired man's scarred mouth, and laughter reverberated through his entire being.

"My, oh my. Got to hand it to the old man, he knows how to put a plan together. Well, time to get to work."

* * *

**A/N: So, what do you all think?**

**Anyway, things are taking something of a different turn then in Chilling Adventures canon. Plus, a familiar face is back! That is so very good! What does he want, and what is Wednesday up to?**

**Read, review, and enjoy!**


	11. Chapter 11

Fate Ragnarök Chapter 11: The Devil v. Sabrina Spellman. 

She ran. She ran out of that room, The Dark One's horrible voice echoing after her. "**_You will sign my book. In fact, when the time comes, you will BEG to sign it."_**

At this point, she did not care if she ran out of the school. She just wanted to run and run and run, as far away as she could. Instead, she found her self in the bathroom, puking her guts out into the nearest toilet.

It felt like her stomach was now empty, as if she had just drank an entire bucket of cleanser.

With a slight groan, she slowly rose from the toilet, flushed it, and then went to the sink to wash out her mouth.

It only partially worked. With another groan, she lifted up her head, and gasped in surprise as she whirled around. "Oh! Mrs. Wardwell!"

How had she gotten in here? Sabrina had not heard anyone else come in.

The teacher held up her hands in a gesture of apology and then handed Sabrina a paper towel. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. It's just that I... I saw you fleeing Principal Hawthorne's office as if the devil himself were after you, and I just grew concerned. What happened? Did he say something utterly hideous to you?"

Sabrina could not help but wince at the devil comment. But, at the same time, it was hard to say anything concrete. 'He-he-um-"

The teacher then licked her finger and brushed away a bit of vomit that was still on the corner of Sabrina's mouth. "Oh dear. Do you want me to call your aunts? Maybe see if they can come and pick you up? Take you home?"

As he thoughts gathered, Sabrina pulled away from the woman's touch and started to back out of the bathroom. "What? No, no, I'm fine, I'm fine. I just got lightheaded, is all. But, um, thank you, Mrs. Wardwell..."

Sabrina then turned and rushed out of the bathroom...

* * *

The preparations were almost finished for Conner Kemper's wake. All that was left were the flowers.

As Ambrose headed into the viewing room, bouquet in hand... he stopped in his tracks.

Huh.

Lying on top of Connor's casket was an iguana.

Slowly, it turned to look at him.

_Later_

"So, here's a question, Aunties," Ambrose ventured, the iguana now clinging to his shoulder like a infant. "How exactly would one witch go about getting another witch's familiar to talk?"

"Please derail that train of thought Ambrose. You know perfectly well that you are not allowed a familiar, per the rules of your house arrest," Zelda said without looking up, all the while chopping up a few slabs of meat. "So please, get rid of that thing perched on your shoulder."

"Yeah, but, I found it perched on the Kemper boy's casket. So, I thought that if I could get it to speak, then maybe it might be able to shed some light on how he might have died."

Zelda then looked at him as if he were a simpleton. "That is most foolish, Ambrose. Familiars are bound to their witches. Anyways, that thing will soon be dead. The greatest agony that it can know is a life without its master."

She then reached out for it. 'In fact, give it here. I'll make it quick, and then Hilda can fashion its hide into a nice purse."

"No," Ambrose said, as he picked up a carrot. "Not happening. It's mine, for now."

Zelda looked a bit disappointed. "Look, I'll try bribing it with some food," Ambrose explained. "Maybe that will work, and we can shed some light on its master's death."

Honestly, killing a defenseless familiar. They were witches, not monsters.

* * *

**"You_ will BEG to sign it."_**

"Hey, you okay?" Harvey's tired voice cut through like a machete through shrubbery. "You looked like you went away for a moment there."

"Yeah, sorry. Just... having a bit of an out-of-body thing back there. But, I'm back, I'm back."

He gave her a knowing look through his tired eyes, as they and Susie sat on the stairs for lunch.

"Great! There you guys are!" Roz exclaimed, as she strode towards them, and sat next to Sabrina. "You all will not believe the fascism that is afoot at Baxter high!"

"What's wrong?" Sabrina asked.

"So, I go to get my book assignment approved by Mr. Garland, and do you know what he tells me? No. My request is rejected. Because, apparently, my chosen book has been deemed 'problematic!'" As she said this, she slammed her book onto the floor.

Harvey craned his head to read the title, whilst stifling a yawn. "Really? But, _The Bluest Eye_ a classic, isn't it?"

"Exactly! No one should be able to decide what we can and can't read.

Everyone nodded his or her heads in agreement. "So, how can we help Roz?" Susie asked. "No, how can WICCA help? I mean, that is why our club exists, after all."

Sabrina nodded, and Susie continued. "So, we'll take the fight to Hawthorne. Right, Sabrina?"

The mention of the principal brought back to her mind the sight of him, drooling and bleeding from his eyes. She shook her head to dispel the memories. "Uh... yeah, sure. A-absolutely, if that's what Roz wants. Roz?"

Roz looked a bit surprised that they were so willing to back her, and took a deep breath, as if preparing herself to lead the charge. "Yeah. Yeah! Let's go!"

As she and Susie stood up, Harvey and Sabrina hung back for a moment. "Hey, earlier, when you were... not here, what happened? Does it have something to do with what happened on Halloween?"

She looked at him for a moment. Though she was glad he was in the know, she still was unsure if it would be best to tell her boyfriend that the Devil himself had just threatened her while possessing their principal's body.

"...Yeah. Something like that."

* * *

Of course, Principal Hawthorne had been as ridiculously asinine as ever. Then, they later discovered that other books had been banned from the library.

Through it all, Roz led the charge like a mighty general.

At the very least, it helped Sabrina take her mind off of everything else that had happened. It was nice, mortal, heck, even normal...

* * *

_Later_

"Aunt Zelda?" Sabrina called out, as she entered the house. "Aunt Hilda? You're not gonna believe what happened to me at school today."

"Oh, we can imagine," Aunt Zelda said from the kitchen, in a very caustic tone of voice.

What now? What else could she be angry about, besides, well, everything recently? As Sabrina entered the kitchen, it was to find her family all huddled around the table. At her approach, Aunt Zelda held up what looked to be a piece of parchment. "Do you have any idea what this is, child?" she asked.

At Sabrina's confused silence, Aunt Zelda continued. "Okay then, I'll tell you; It's an infernal summons."

A what now? "A what now?" Sabrina asked.

Aunt Hilda then stepped forward, hands fiddling at nothing. "Well, um, it would seem that you've been charged with a rather antiquated defense, my dear. It's called a Breach of Promise."

"Indeed," Aunt Zelda continued. "You made a promise, a solemn vow, to sign your name in the Dark Lord's _Book of the Beast_, and then, when you ran in idiotic horror from your Dark Baptism, you broke that solemn vow!" At her exclamation, all the dished briefly rattled.

Aunt Zelda took a deep breath and then continued. "You humiliated our family and our master in front of the entire coven, and now, you are set to be judged and tried in front of the _entire coven_." She slammed the parchment down onto the table for Sabrina to look at and then lit up a cigar. "Never, in all my years, has a single Spellman ever been summoned before the Court of Witches. Before. It's absolutely mortifying!"

Sabrina looked up from the parchment in confusion. "Wait, wait, wait. I don't understand. I'm being sued? By who?"

"Yes... by the Dark Lord," Aunt Hilda whispered. "It seems, that, uh, he's determined that you set foot onto the Path of Night."

"But... that's what I wanted to tell you. I saw him today, the Dark Lord, at School!"

That caught everyone's attention. As they all looked at her in shock, Sabrina continued. "He took possession of my principal's body, and threatened me!"

As everyone reeled from the shock of her proclamation, Aunt Zelda clenched her cigar so tightly that it snapped in two. She then slammed her fist down on the table and looked at Aunt Hilda, who flinched. "Did you hear _that_, sister? Can you even imagine how utterly enraged he must be?"

"Well, it doesn't matter," Sabrina interjected. "I don't want to be a part of his coven, I don't want to set a single foot into the Academy of Unseen Arts, and I am most certainly not going to stand trial!" This time, it was her turn to slam the parchment down onto the table and make all the glasses in the house briefly shake.

As she turned to stride out of the kitchen, Aunt Zelda called out after her. "Oh, I'm afraid that you most certainly are, Sabrina. You have been _summoned_."

Sabrina kept walking. "And it is not only you, but me, and Hilda as well."

Sabrina stopped walking and turned on her heel in shock. Aunt Zelda sighed and continued. "We are on trial as well."

"But... that doesn't make any sense."

Aunt Hilda gave a sad shrug. 'Well, we are your legal guardians, my lamb. So, in the eyes of the Court of Witches, your actions and faults... are our actions and faults. Under the auspices of the law... we are as guilty as you."

"Don't you mean innocent? Innocent until proven guilty? Isn't that how it's supposed to work?"

"No, little cousin, that's how _mortal _law works," Ambrose said, with a shake of his head. "Witch law, on the other hand, is the complete and utter opposite. Guilty, until proven innocent."

As he spoke, Aunt Zelda reached into her vest pocket and pulled out... oh man, was that a tooth!? "Do you know what this is?" she asked.

Please not a tooth, please not a tooth, and please not a- "It's your Aunt Hilda's tooth." Damn it. "We have been utterly stripped of our powers. And that means that we will age and rot, _rapidly, _until a verdict has been reached." She then dropped the tooth onto the table. "Your trial begins at midnight."

Without another word, Sabrina stalked away to her room.

Later, when she talked with Ambrose, even he was at a loss for ideas.

Just freaking great.

* * *

Zelda never really liked Blackwood's house. It was dark, indeed, barely lit, save for a few candles and a few electric lamps. It was almost as if the High Priest took a witch's natural disdain for light to an almost zealous degree. But, she was already here. No turning back now. She sat down in the chair that he had offered her. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Faustus."

"But of course. Your brother was my closest friend. As such, this is the least I can do. Now, what can I do for you?"

Right, time to get straight to it. "So, you are going to be the Dark Lord's prosecutor, I presume?" she asked.

He nodded, though he seemed a bit perplexed by the question. "It's not a task that I particularly relish, but that is one of my many duties as high priest, yes. Why do you ask?"

Perhaps she needed to turn on a bit of her charm. She leaned in. "Please, Faustus. Sabrina simply made a foolish, impetuous mistake, I agree, but surely, there is no need to go through all of this. Couldn't we just settle this between ourselves? You, me, the Dark Lord... without the embarrassing spectacle of a pubic trial?"

Faustus sighed as he rose and walked around to the front of his desk. "The wheels of justice are already turning, Zelda and even I am powerless to stop their rotation."

He sat down on the edge of his desk and seemed to loom over her like a beast of prey. "But, that does not mean that they need to rotate for very long."

He took her hand in his. His hands felt icy cold. "Come to the trial tonight... with Sabrina... have her admit her wrongdoing and beg for forgiveness, immediately. You and she will find that the Dark Lord is not without mercy. But, his beneficence will have a price; he will require total and complete submission from the girl."

That... was not totally ideal, but, it was still a way out. "And he shall have it," Zelda assured. "I can promise you that."

He studied her face for a long moment, and then shook his head, as he ran his fingers through her hair, to cup the back of her head. "Oh, poor Zelda. Already, I can see the ravages of age upon you." He then sighed sadly and kissed her forehead. Like his hands, his lips were like ice.

Then as he pulled away, some of her hair came away in his hand. Shit!

With what remained of her dignity, Zelda took away the hair, stood up, and bowed her head. "Thank you for your time, Faustus. See you in court."

She then strode away as quickly as he could. Damn it all, but she really needed a cigar!

* * *

Faustus watched Zelda Spellman as she left. Still so beautiful. But, there were still some hairs in his hand, hairs that were already turning gray. How disgusting. He began to wipe them off.

Beneath his shirt, his scar ached, and he lifted his head. "I do not enjoy being watched, especially in my own home."

An ancient presence filled the room. "The girl is my charge," said the Devil's right hand, as she entered the room, and stalked over to his desk, and began to idly leaf through the open tome that he had left lying upon it. "I can't just risk leaving her fate in... _lesser _hands, Faustus."

Faustus did not rise to the bait. "And yet, it seems you have forgotten that it is your own incompetence that has brought us to this unwanted and unforeseen moment."

The demoness chuckled, as she poured herself a drink from his personal brandy. If she thought that would anger him, then she was wrong. He lost his taste for most such things long ago, ever since Aylesbury... He took a breath to shake away the memories, but Lilith seemed to not notice. "Please... I eased the girl to the altar, as is my way. A comforting hand on her shoulder, a whisper in her ear, and a gentle nudge in the right direction. But, in the end, she was still at the altar, Blackwood. You were the one, however, who failed to get the signature."

As she spoke, Faustus started to sort the papers that she had scattered back into order. At her last comment, he then raised his head. "My dear demoness..." he growled. "Despite your great and _undeniable _prowess, your methods are laughably weak. But, that is to be expected, as your will is only womanly, after all. Now, however, I will be the hammer that shall drive this errant and disobedient nail home."

"Well, you are blunt, like a hammer, that is very true," the demoness said. "But, I would not be so quick to underestimate that little mongrel, warlock." She then turned to look at him. "And _don't _disrespect me."

She slowly stalked over to his desk, like a panther in the night. "You may be the High Priest of our Dark Lord... you are still just a _man_."

As she spoke, she then drained her glass in one sip and set the glass down upon his desk upside down with a soft _thud_. As she then turned to walk away, she looked back over her shoulder at him. "And I have a particular liking for _male _flesh."

Thirty years ago that would have frightened him, though it did make him unconsciously cross his legs.

But, Faustus Blackwood, thirty years ago, had looked into the very eye of power itself, under a bloody and Crimson Moon and had been _reforged_. After that long and bloody night... very little frightened him, anymore.

Even demons.

Or the Devil.

* * *

_He was in the forest, and the taste of blood was on his lips and teeth and tongue. He ran among the trees, he never felt so free._

_A thousand scents penetrate his nostrils, and the ground beneath his paws and feet made him feel so alive. _

_Then, from within the forest, he heard something..._

_Prey!_

_He stalked it, through the forest. It ran fast, but he was faster, stronger, greater, and he leaped. A throat, tearing in his mouth, more blood, fresh meat. _

_As he ate, his ear perked up. _

_Battle!_

_Men were screaming and roaring and dying._

_He got closer and closer, and..._

"Harv?"

With a gasp, Harvey woke from the dream to his brother lightly shaking him awake. "You okay?" Tommy asked.

"Yeah.. Yeah. Just dozed off for a moment."

"Man, can't imagine why," Tommy lightly snaked, as he gazed around at the drawings on Harvey's wall.

Tommy idly looked through a pile of Harvey's older works. "Hey, these are really good, man, even if they are a little messed up."

He smirked as he looked back up. "Man, you are just one twisted little weirdo, huh?"

Harvey chuckled as he looked up from his current picture. Luckily, he had not drooled on it in his sleep. "Thanks, Tommy."

Tommy walked over to see the current picture. "Yeah, I even showed a few of them to the guy that runs the bookstore."

"You mean that vampire guy?" Tommy asked.

"Yeah, Doctor Cerberus. In fact, he said that I could do some posters for his store. Maybe even work there weekends, if I wanted to."

"Is that your idea of a joke?" an angry, drunken voice slurred, bringing the brother's happy moment to an abrupt end.

Standing in the doorway, was their father, and it smelled as if he had already started indulging in his favorite pastime; drinking. The man spat, and then continued. "You want to waste your time, hanging out in the back of some idiotic comic book shop with some faggoty-looking pervert who likes to play dress-up?"

Tommy let loose a nervous chuckle. "Jeez, dad. Can you just relax?"

"No," their father said, as he walked into the room. "You really want a job so bad, you little bastard? Okay then, I've got a job for you. You get to work with me and your brother in the mines. In fact, you'll be starting with a shift this week-"

"Dad, c'mon," Tommy interjected. "There's no need for that. We can manage just fine without-"

"No, no, no. You heard him, Tom. Your brother here is ready to do some honest work, and so that's what I'm doing; I'm giving him some honest work. End of story."

As their father turned and stalked out of the room, all Harvey could do was just sit at his desk, as unwanted memories poured to the forefront of his mind...

* * *

Only a few hours until midnight. Being unable to stay cooped up until the court meeting, Sabrina had decided to go for a stroll in the night. At least it was a clear night, and the air was brisk and cool.

She then heard whistling. She turned, and, strolling up the path, was a familiar face.

It was Mr. Wednesday. He saw her and gave a smile. "Hello there, Sabrina."

"Mr. Wednesday? What are you doing out here so late?"

"Enjoying the night air, though, I could ask you the same question." As he drew closer, his grin slowly faded. "You seem troubled. Tell me, what is wrong?"

So, she told him everything, and, as he listens, he tapped his finger against his bearded chin. "The Court of Witches... that is indeed a most dizzying challenge. Though, to invoke such an antiquated law such as Breach of Promise... It is odd, to say the least. Also, how disgusting, the way people seem to enjoy banning knowledge and books."

"So, what do you think I should do?"

He shrugged. "About the books, well, just protest. As t your trial? You may not like this answer, but, for now, it is the best that I can offer; just have faith, and don't give up so easily."

"That's it?"

He nodded. "That's it. Well, that, and make sure you have that coin I gave you in your pocket. I did tell you that it will bring you good luck, right?"

She sighed. "Okay. Thanks, Mr. Wednesday."

She then hurried off. She had to get to court, after all.

* * *

_ Later, Unholy Courthouse. _

_Church of Night v. Sabrina Spellman_

_Night 1_

_Presided over by the Dishonorable and Infernal Three_

_Faustus Blackwood for the Prosecution_

_None for the Defense_

As they approached the courtyard, Aunt Zelda, who, like Aunt Hilda, was dressed all in black, along with a headscarf and thick sunglasses, slowed to a halt and then turned to Aunt Hilda and Sabrina. "Now, remember ladies, when we enter that courthouse, we will carry ourselves with dignity and aplomb. We admit our wrongs, accept our punishment, and then we can try and put this whole sordid mess behind us." She then turned towards Sabrina. "Isn't that right, Sabrina?"

In the distance, there was a rumble of thunder. Sabrina sighed. "Do I even have a choice?"

"Not really, no."

Sabrina sighed again. With a firm squeeze of the coin, she followed her aunts inside.

The interior of the courthouse (Which apparently used to be a church, now profaned) there were large bowls of fire and incense. Every seat in the back pews was filled. Father Blackwood stood before the dais. Behind him sat three horrific-looking figures, dressed in black robes, and each had different scars on a different part of their face. There were masses of scar tissue where their eyes, or mouth, or ears were meant to be. Despite that, Sabrina had the sinking feeling that the one with no eyes was looking right at her, especially when it then grinned widely with a mouth full of crocodile teeth, right at her. Standing off to the side was another gruesome-looking figure clad in equally gruesome-looking armor, and carrying a rather large ax.

Father Blackwood then cleared his throat and drew everyone's attention. "We, the profane, gather here tonight in this sacrilegious court so that we may serve the Dark Lord's justice. A most deplorable crime has been committed against our glorious master and savior."

A loud murmuring of _Hail Satan_ swept through the room, as father Blackwood then gestured his cane at Sabrina. "Sabrina Spellman stands accused before the Infernal Three, guilty of breaking her solemn vow, her promise, her pledge, to the Dark Lord."

As one, the three judges then spoke, even the one in the middle, who had no mouth. "_Sabrina Spellman, stand."_

With a light jab from Aunt Zelda, Sabrina hesitantly stood, and Father Blackwood continued. "When the accused is confirmed guilty, then not only will she be made to abandon her mortal life immediately, but, upon her death, her soul will be made to burn in the darkest corner of the pit of a total of three-hundred-and-thirty-three years, as our Dark Lord's pleasure demands."

At that proclamation, everyone in the courthouse, save for her aunts, began... to applaud, as if it were something to celebrate. A moment later, the three infernal judges began to slam their gavels upon blacks of wood in their hands. Father Blackwood then looked directly at Sabrina. "Accused... how do you plead?"

She could feel everyone's eyes on her. It was hard to breathe, or even think. "I... I..."

Suddenly, outside, amidst the sound of thunder, there was the sound of two horses neighing! Then the doors were almost blasted open with a great and mighty boom! Before them all then stood a man.

The man was not especially tall. He was a bit gaunt, and he was balding. But, he carried himself with a sort of dignified air that Sabrina had thought only a president could carry, and he was dressed in a waistcoat, shirt vest, white shirt, dress pants, leather shoes, and a top hat. In his hand was a large leather briefcase. At his side was a large and muscular ram, with horns almost as large and as thick as a full-grown oak's branches.

As the entire court looked upon him in shock, he doffed his cap in greeting, and then he and his ram entered. "Good evening, or, rather, good morning. My name is Daniel Webster, and I will be the defense attorney of the young Sabrina Spellman here. My apologies for my tardiness, but my horses were a tad slow tonight. As for the charge upon which she stands accused, then my client most firmly and definitively pleads **not guilty**!"

As murmurs of shock rippled through the court, with even Father Blackwood looking a bit confused, Sabrina could only think about one thing that the man said.

She got a lawyer?

* * *

Outside, Sabrina watched as Aunt Zelda paced back and forth. "Hell's sake, as if things weren't dire enough, you go and hire this mortal...pettifogger behind our backs."

"Um, excuse me, but I'm just in the dark about this as you. I didn't know that the Court of Witches even had lawyers," Sabrina retorted.

The man (her lawyer!) cleared his throat. "If you would please refrain from insulting my noble profession, madam, then I shall let you know that I am here of my own volition. As your niece has just said, she had no foreknowledge of my arrival. Besides, I am most well-versed in all aspects of law and legal proceedings, mortal, witch, or otherwise."

"Is that supposed to make us feel better? Who even are you?" Aunt Zelda demanded.

"As I stated earlier, I am Daniel Webster. I was a friend of your late brother, Edward."

That caught Sabrina's attention. "Wait, you knew my father?"

The man, Mr. Webster, gave a firm nod. "Indeed I did, miss. He actually worked as a consultant for me on a number of previous cases of mine. I am here to return the favor, as it were."

"Do you really think that you can help?" Aunt Hilda asked quietly.

Mr. Webster looked at Sabrina's aunts with a steely and resolute gaze. "Madams, if you will allow me to speak plain, if not in blasphemy of your religion; I would fight ten thousand devils in the defense of one American soul. It is what I have always done, and by thunder, that is what I aim to do throughout this entire case! The life, and afterlife, of your niece, is at stake, and the longer that we stand here dithering and trading sub-par barbs at one-another; the more likely are her chances of being found guilty. I am your niece's best chance at winning this case, whether you like it or not."

He then turned his gaze towards Sabrina. "Now then, shall we head back inside? We have charges to contest, and a case to win."

* * *

When they went back inside, Sabrina was called to the testimonial stand. As she went up, everyone looked at her. She even saw the Weird Sisters, sneering at her from the rows. She held the coin tightly in her hand. It felt icy cold. "Do you know what Breach of Promise means, Miss Spellman?" Father Blackwood asked as he looked up at her.

It sounded simple enough. "It's when you make a promise, and then you break it. Which, categorically, I did not do at all."

Father Blackwood ignored her and looked down at the heavy book in his hands. "A Breach of Promise, Miss Spellman, is most commonly invoked when a groom runs out on a bride to whom he is promised to wed."

Seriously? Father Blackwood then looked back up and chuckled. "Now, I only mention this because, well... were you and the Dark Lord not courting in advance of your Dark Baptism?"

"Objection, your dishonors," Mr. Webster interjected. "Relevance?"

"If the Infernal Three would permit me to finish my line of questioning, then the court will see where I am going with this," Blackwood said.

"Very well," said the first of the Infernal three. "You may proceed."

"Thank you, your dishonor. Now, as to my question..."

"I don't understand," Sabrina said. "In what way were we courting?"

"Well, did you not go willingly into the woods that night? Wearing, of all things... a wedding dress?"

That got everyone murmuring. "As such," Father Blackwood continued, "the fact is that you gave every indication that it was your own intention to fulfill a promise made. You showed up for a ceremony that you'd committed to, and then, at the moment of consummation... you fled."

His eyes seemed to bore into her. "In other words... you broke. Your. Promise."

At that, a few people actually slung insults at her. One person even called her a tramp. Father Blackwood let loose a quiet breath. "That is all." He then returned to his seat.

As he took his seat, Mr. Webster stood up and approached the stand. "Miss Spellman, members of the court, this is all quite a heavy accusation, but, I must inquire; where is the tangible proof of this betrayal? If this baptism is truly to be considered a wedding, then where, might I ask, is the required paperwork and certification? Where is the marriage license? The blood tests that this township demands, as per the law? If this is, as you say, a union between man and woman, husband and wife, then let us be ascertained of the signatures! Or, at the very least, ladies and gentlemen of this unholy court, show us the groom! Besides, if every dark baptism is a wedding, then should we not put the 'groom' on trial for polygamy? That is, after all, illegal in this state and country."

That sent everyone murmuring again, as the three judges banged on their gavel while calling for... disorder? Mr. Webster nodded. "There is no contract. Thus, there is no promise, and thus... no case. As such, I hereby call for an immediate mistrial, and the immediate release of my client, and the return of her aunt's powers!"

At that, he sat back down.

Was that it? Could they actually win this thing?

Then, Father Blackwood cleared his throat. "Your Dishonors, if I may? I would like to submit into evidence our most unholy Grimoire, _The Book of The Beast_."

He set the heavy book down in front of Sabrina. "Now, Miss Spellman, would you please be so kind as to open it to the page that I have indicated?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Sabrina noticed Aunt Zelda start to fidget in her seat, and then look away. What was going on? Then, seeing as she had little choice, Sabrina opened the book to the marked page.

The look on Father Blackwood's face was beyond smug, and he then raised his cane and tapped it on the page. "Now, would you please be so kind as to read that name that has been written..." he moved his cane down a few centimeters, "...here?"

Sabrina looked to where the cane was pointing, and her eyes widened in shock. "Nice and loud, if you would," Father Blackwood said.

This... this didn't make any sense. "It says... Sabrina Spellman."

At once, Mr. Webster rose from his seat and strode over to the stand to examine the signature.

How? "I... I don't understand," Sabrina stammered. "This... this is dated only a few days after... after I was born?"

Mr. Webster then spoke up. "Utter preposterous. Your dishonors, are all of us truly to believe that an infant signed her name into _The Book of The Beast _three days after she was born? The only reasonable and logical explanation is that that is a blatant forgery, a fraud."

Father Blackwood smiled again. "I now call to the Stand... Zelda Phiona Spellman."

As her aunt stepped forward, and Sabrina stepped down, she whispered to her. "Aunt Zelda? What's happening?"

She did not answer. Once she was on the stand, Father Blackwood looked up at Aunt Zelda. "Now, Ms. Spellman. Zelda. Would you be so kind as to take us all back to the date written here, hmm?"

Her aunt sighed. "Of course, Your Excellency."

She then looked up, and faced the entire court. "I..." she began, before taking a deep and breath and continuing. "I accompanied my brother into the Greendale Wood. In his arms, he carried his newborn daughter, Sabrina. When we reached a clearing, he put the babe on an altar and then... he signed her name in _The Book of The Beast, _promising her soul to the Dark Lord."

People started murmuring again, but all Sabrina could do was look up at her aunt in shock. Then, as if to drive it home, people were... applauding?

Her aunt could not even look her in the face.

* * *

_ later, Spellman Residence_

"Now it all makes sense!" Sabrina screamed at Aunt Zelda, when they had returned to the house. "All of your strong-arming, trying to get me get me to sign the book! you were just trying to cover up the fact that you had already _pawned _me off to the Dark Lord like some sort of used car!"

"Oh don't be so dramatic!" Aunt Zelda retorted. "It's just that.. You were never meant to find out. This was just supposed to be something of an early investment, and early birthday present. Besides, you were supposed to choose the Path of Night and sign your name willingly, not flee from it like some sort of scared rabbit. Then, that way-"

"That way, I would never have found out about my father's betrayal, and yours!?"

Aunt Zelda sighed. "Edward... he needed a witness, and, well, I was the one that he trusted in such matters."

Sabrina felt a tear trickle down her cheek. "Okay then... tell me. Why... why would he do this to me?"

As she asked, Aunt Zelda's eyes became... mournful. "...A certain bargain had been struck, and the price that your father had to pay... it was to sign your name in that book."

"What could have possibly been worth doing this to me?"

"...Permission to be able to marry your mother. In exchange for allowing them to wed, the Dark Lord's price..."

"Was me," Sabrina finished. "The price was me, his own daughter."

In her pocket, she gripped the coin, and it was hotter than coal. "And you... you just stood there, and you watched him do it, Aunt Zelda! You helped him to do this to me! So as far as I am concerned, this is as much _your _fault as it is _his!_"

With that, she turned on her heel and stormed upstairs.

* * *

Daniel Webster sat by the fireplace of the room that he was renting, leafing through a tome of witch law. This case... it was an intriguing one to say the least. A Breach of Promise... it was rather perplexing. This would be the most difficult one, to be sure.

But Daniel Webster relished a challenge, even if it was against his old foe.

The fire crackled. "Father?"

He slowly looked up from his notes, while at his side, his ram got to its feet, and gnashed his teeth. Behind his chair, he heard the sounds of boots on the ground. "Father... why are you still doing this? Why could you not have saved me, and so many others, by accepting his deal, instead of spitting in his face? Are you not tired? Don't your many labors wear on you? Wouldn't you desire to rest?"

Daniel Webster scoffed, and then turned back to his notes. "If this is your best effort to dissuade me, wearing the form of my dead son, then you have truly begun to lose all originality in your temptations, Mr. Scratch."

Behind him, the Beast wearing Fletcher's face growled and scoffed. "**How long do you think you can keep this up, Daniel Webster, this little dance of ours? How long do you think that you keep fighting against me?"**

"As long as I still have breath and blood and bones in my body, Mr. Scratch," the lawyer said. "As long as there is even one soul left on this country that calls themself an American, then I will be there to fight you for it. Now, be gone, with your tricks and your temptations. I am busy. Begone, or I will set my ram upon you."

The presence at his back laughed again. **"This country is not yours anymore, Mr. Webster. Your kind and ideals are no longer welcome here. I will have this half-witch, and nothing that you can do will be able to stop me from claiming her."**

It laughed once more and then left.

Daniel Webster looked back down at his notes.

Half...

Interesting.

* * *

_November 4th_

_The Next Day_

Sabrina had not talked to Aunt Zelda for the rest of the night, or the morning, and had set out for school with Harvey almost immediately after breakfast without a word. Once they were away from the house, she told Harvey everything.

"Wow..." he finally said. "That's... that's fucked up."

"Yep, that's a word for it," Sabrina grumbled.

"Well... if it makes you feel any better, then I think I can keep you company in the 'bad-dads' department. Mine just decided that I am to start working in the mines."

"What? Why? You hate the mines."

"Yeah. That's probably why. Just another way to torture me, I guess. Though... it's not that I really hate them, I..." the look on his face grew troubled and... scared?

Well, as his girlfriend, it was her job to try and find out, right? "What? What?"

They stopped walking, and he turned to look at her. "What is it?" she inquired. "You can tell me."

He sighed and then started to speak. "...Eight years ago, I was playing hide-and-seek with Tommy and a couple of his buddies. And I, like an idiot, decided to go hide in the mines. And, I'm in there, alone, just wandering deeper and deeper into it. Half-an-hour goes by, and then an hour... no one finds me. After a while, I start trying to find my way back to the entrance. Then, all of a sudden, I start following this... this strange smell, like rotten blood and eggs and piss that had been set on fire with a book of matches, deeper and deeper until... I saw something."

He stopped, as if afraid of what he was remembering. She gently took his hand in hers. "What was it? What did you see?"

"I...I don't know... like some kind of... goat thing, with a bunch of fangs and horns. I couldn't move, I was so scared. All I could do was just cry... Five hours later, when Tommy found me, I was still crying."

He exhaled a shaky breath. "It's been years now, and I still remember everything about that moment. Course now, looking back, it sounds like that demon thing you saw when you ate that apple, right?"

Sabrina wasn't sure how to respond, except maybe just hug him, which she did...

* * *

Despite himself, Harvey felt a tiny bit lighter, after telling Sabrina about his childhood trauma, and, after one of her wonderful hugs, they spent the rest of the walk and drive to the school in a comfortable and loving silence.

It was still a bit odd whenever he looked at her and saw her glowing, but that glow, it was a comforting thing, one that made all his troubles just wash away. Though, the fact that everything else would sometimes turn grey was a bit headache-inducing, not to mention all the smells.

Still, he felt a bit better.

As they walked into the hallway, it was to the sounds and sight of Roz and Susie handing out flyers to everyone.

Then, a terrible feeling crawled its way down his spine, and Ms. Wardwell suddenly popped up next to them. As she started explaining to them, mostly to Sabrina, what exactly was going on, Harvey looked over at her... and he had to force himself not to scream in fright.

Where Sabrina was glowing, Ms. Wardwell... she was oozing darkness, and her scent... like maggots and blood.

He had to clench his fist to keep himself calm until she then stepped away from them again.

What was wrong with him?

Mr. Wednesday. Mr. Wednesday would know.

_Later, before lunch_

As the lunch bell rang, Harvey made an excuse to Roz, Susie, and Sabrina that he had to wash up, and then headed straight to Mr. Wednesday's office.

"Ah, Mr. Kinkle. How can I help you?" the teacher asked, his pipe in hand.

"What happened to me out there? What is wrong with me? Why do I feel so... different? Why am I seeing things?"

"What kind of things are you seeing, Mr. Kinkle?"

"Sometimes... I smell things, like blood or maggots. When I look at Sabrina, it's like she's made out of light, and most other things lose their color. I keep having these weird dreams, I can't sleep, and I'm just so hungry all the time. What is going on? What happened, that night in the forest?"

Mr. Wednesday looked at him for a long moment, and then sighed out a mouthful of tobacco smoke. "You and I intruded upon your girlfriend's dark baptism, you saw what lurks beneath the skins of those who revere The Dark Lord, and then, after we were cornered by a small group of the dark worshippers, you turned into a werewolf, and killed them all."

That had not been what Harvey had been expecting at all. "...What?"

"You turned into a ravenous, lupine beast and then devoured a small group of witches and warlocks that tried to kill us. Must I repeat myself a third time?"

Harvey suddenly felt the need to sit down, though it was more like he collapsed into his seat. Mr. Wednesday just continued. "Congratulations, Mr. Kinkle; you're a werewolf."

"...How?"

"To answer that, I shall ask a few questions of my own. Now, for the past month or so, you have been having trouble sleeping, yes? Bad dreams, or some such? Well, these dreams that you've been having... they are of you mostly running through the forest, yes? Killing things and eating them? Those aren't dreams they are memories. As for your sight, well, in ancient texts, it is stated that lycanthropes had the ability to see things as they truly are. Now as for how? Well, since you obviously were not bitten by one such beast, then the only likely explanation is that it is genetic."

"...Genetic?"

"Yes. If it helps, then figure out if any of your other family members are like this. It's something of a dominant gene, after all. Ask your brother, for instance. He is older than you, yes? Lycanthropy tends to be a dominant gene, so he should have already experienced the change by now. Now then, you better get going. Cna't be late for your lunch, after all. You werewolves do tend to eat a lot."

All Harvey could do was just stumble out in shock.

A werewolf... no.

But, his girlfriend was a witch.

The dreams, and the taste of blood in his mouth...

Suddenly, he felt the urge to hurl...

* * *

_Meanwhile, Spellman Residence_

The turn out for the funeral was modest, Ambrose mused.

Like his parents had said, Connor had not had many friends. Most of the people here were friends of his parents, come to offer the grieving couple their condolences. As such, most of the attendants were the same age as the parents... save for one.

There he was, hovering near the exit of the parlor. He was tall and handsome and good-looking with sandy hair and a fair complexion. Their eyes met, and the man smiled.

Ambrose quietly walked over form the casket to where the man was standing. "So," he began. "Did you know Connor well?"

"Kind of," the man replied. "I mean, we dated a few times..."

"I'm... sorry for your loss."

They were silent for a moment. "My name is Ambrose, by the way."

"Luke. It's nice to meet you," came the reply, with a small handshake.

Luke then turned his gaze back to Connor's casket and gave a sad chuckle. "I'm... I'm just going to miss him, that's all. Him and that stupid lizard of his. I swear, he took that thing with him everywhere."

Ambrose nodded, despite the reminder that he not yet gotten the familiar to speak. "Yeah, or maybe _it_ followed _him_ everywhere."

That got him a chuckle. "Yeah. They never stray too far, do they?"

Ambrose's eye raised at that statement. Hmm, better test the waters. "Are you saying that you're _familiar_... with iguanas like Connor's?"

Luke smiled a bit. "I'm just saying that I know that Connor was very... attached to it."

Ah. It seemed that Connor was not entirely unattached to the World of Night. Luke then continued. "Yeah, those two had a bond-"

"I have it," Ambrose interjected.

That got Luke's attention. "He's upstairs," Ambrose explained. "In my room. You know, if you wanted to... say hi."

Suddenly, the sound of Connor's mother crying broke the moment. "Yeah... I should probably go," Luke said, before he then leaned in closer. "But, maybe another time."

Then, with a wink, he turned and left the building.

* * *

Harvey had been unable to walk her home, and so Sabrina had had to walk home alone.

As she did, her mind was now full of worry and fear for her trial. Her soul signed away at birth by her own father. How were they supposed to wriggle out of that?

Then, the sound of hoofbeats distracted her, and she looked up to see an odd sight; Her lawyer, riding down the road upon a cart, drawn by two large brown horses. Was that how he got around? "Good day, Ms. Spellman. Walking home from school?"

She nodded. "Would you perhaps be averse to accepting a ride from me and my fine horses?"

It was odd, but... when was the last time that she had ridden on a horse-and-buggy? So, up she went, and off the pair set. As he handled the reins, Mr. Webster looked at her and seemed to note the look on her face. "You are feeling despondent, no doubt. That is wholly understandable, in light of what was revealed last night. But you can't give up hope, Ms. Spellman."

"Easy for you to say. I bet your soul was never promised to the freaking Devil."

"No, I can honestly say that it was not. But, this is not the first time that I have dealt with him and his machinations."

That caught Sabrina's attention, and he continued. "Indeed. A long time ago, a man came to me, by the name of Jabez Wilson. He had sold his soul to Mr. Scratch, as your Dark Lord called himself back then. Seven years of prosperity for the price of his soul. Near the end of those seven years, realizing his error, he came to me to defend him, and I did. During and after the trial, Mr. Scratch came to me, all full of wiles and good cheer. He had known of my ambitions towards a higher office, and this was during a time when this great country of ours was on the cusp of being embroiled in a most terrible war; a war with itself, in which my sons would die. Yes, I am that Daniel Webster, formerly the congressman for New Hampshire, and Secretary of State under two presidents. He offered me the chance to avert the entire coming Civil War, if I but gave my soul to him. I refused and banished him from New Hampshire.

"After that, I found a strange yearning in myself, to combat him where ever it was that he dared to ply his deals and trade, and so, through the decades, I have, for a total of Sixty-Five times. I have defended witches and mortals alike. In fact, as I said last night, your father helped me on a few of those very cases."

Sabrina did not know what to say to all of that, save one thing. "...Did you win all of them?"

He sighed and shook his head. "Regretfully, no, and every one of those losses still weighs heavily upon me to this day, especially one in particular.

"It was roughly... I would like to hypothesize that it was about forty years ago... My client for that particular case was a lawyer, like myself. He had made a deal with Mr. Scratch that, in exchange for his soul, this man, whose name was also Daniel Webster, would become the greatest lawyer in the. And he did. He never lost a single case... But there was a catch. All his clients, everyone that he defended... they were always among the most heinous scum to ever walk the earth. Eventually, he became known as 'The Defender of The Damned'. As you can imagine, every case weighed heavily upon him. But, somehow, he managed to get through each case, especially since he had a good and kind daughter to come home to.

"Then, one day, one of his 'clients,' a vile beast who enjoyed doing unconscionable and unspeakable things to a number of women and little girls... After my client got him freed on a technicality, that monster snuck into my client's home that very night, and, as a thank you for his services, did those monstrous acts to Daniel's good and kind daughter."

Sabrina's mouth dropped open in horror.

"That is how Mr. Scratch operates, you see. He will give you what you want, but only on his terms. He will always trick you; there is always a trick, and a price, beyond the soul. I defended Mr. Webster to the best of my ability, of course, but he was forever and irrevocably broken. Indeed, once his trial had ended, he threw himself off a bridge. I later learned that, every night of the trial, Mr. Scratch sent servitors, disguised in the form of his daughter, to torment poor Daniel. Either way that the case ended, Mr. Scratch had rigged it so that the result would still be in his favor."

Sabrina's mouth dropped open in horror. "Yes, so please understand; if you give up hope, then, no matter the outcome, Mr. Scratch will have won. He feeds off the death of hope, so please, Miss Spellman... do not give up your hope."

"How- how did Mr. Webster's trial end?"

He looked at her and sighed. "Does it truly matter? He lost hope, and, in the end, Mr. Scratch still got his claws on him anyway."

They were silent for a moment, before he slowed the cart to a stop, and turned to look at her. "I do not tell you this with intent to frighten, Miss Spellman, only to help you understand what kind of thing Mr. Scratch is, though I have no doubts that you already know. Now, I do believe, strongly, that I can triumph in this case for you, but I can do only so much as your legal representative. The rest will be up to you, as long as you do not lose hope. Think of something or someone that you cherish and treasure, and hold tight to it, and you will not waver. Can you do that?"

Despite herself, Sabrina nodded, the faces of her friends clear in her mind.

She would not lose hope.

* * *

_Later, at the Unholy Courthouse_

_Church of Night v. Sabrina Spellman_

_Night 2_

_Presided over by the Dishonorable and Infernal Three_

_Faustus Blackwood for the Prosecution_

_Daniel Webster for the Defense_

Later that night, the trial continued, signified by the ringing of the profaned steeple bell.

Mr. Webster then called up Aunt Zelda and Aunt Hilda to the stand. "Now, Ms. Spellman," he said to them. "Both you and your sister are fully certified midwives. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Yes."

He nodded and continued. "The two of you have delivered many babies in the witch community, including your very own niece, Sabrina, as well as more than a few who no doubt sit in this courtroom tonight. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Yes."

"Very well. Can you then kindly verify, for this unholy court... was Sabrina born of mortal woman?"

Sabrina's aunts nodded, Aunt Hilda emphatically so. "She was, yes." "Oh absolutely, yes."

"As such, this makes my client, therefore, _half-_witch, _half-_mortal, and, thusly, only _half_ subject to the laws of this dire and unholy court!"

As the court became abuzz in murmur, Father Blackwood groaned and then scoffed. "Your Dishonors, this line of thought and hypotheticals is completely absurd."

"No, my good sir," Mr. Webster retorted. "This is my client's right!" He then turned back to her aunts. "Now, ladies, a final bit of questioning. No doubt the two of you have done your utmost best to educate your niece in the ways and methods and traditions of witchcraft and the Path of the Night. But, if I may inquire, how often has she attended Black Mass? How often has your niece truly interacted with others who tread the Path of Night, at least beyond cursory hellos and greetings, in comparison to that of her mortal fellows and friends? Are there any among here, or in your community as a whole, that she can honestly and fully call a peer, a compatriot, or even just an acquaintance?"

Her aunts looked hesitant, but still answered. "Not very often, so no." Aunt Zelda admitted.

"None, really," said Aunt Hilda.

Mr. Webster's gaunt face adopted a long of stern triumph. "And there you have it, your dishonors. As such, I hereby demand that my client be allowed a jury of her true peers. A jury of Mortals! As well as a change of venue! I formally and fully reject the authority of this unholy court over my client!"

As the murmurings increased in volume, the judges banged their gavels and bellowed for disorder in the court.

Sabrina lightly held the coin in her pocket, and could not help but have a small smile on her face. Perhaps they could win this after all.

At least, she had hope.

* * *

_ Spellman House_

As always, Ambrose's night was to consist of just him, a good book, and one of his old records, just as it had been for the past seventy-five years. Honestly, was what he had tried to do really that bad? It had just been the Vatican, for Hell's sake!

Suddenly, on his open window, there came a loud knocking.

Odd.

Curious, Ambrose rose from his desk and looked out the window. No one.

He kept looking- "Psst. _Open the window, Mark_."

"Judas Priest!" Ambrose exclaimed, a hand to his heart.

He spun around and there, standing in his room was the handsome man, Luke, from Connor's funeral, and dressed in a very dashing black shirt, tight pants, and a handsome leather coat.

Once his heart regained its natural rhythm, Ambrose looked his hunky visitor over. "Luke. Tell me, how did you get in here?"

Luke smiled in return. "Well, you did invite me earlier, remember?"

"So what, are you some sort of vampire or something?"

Luke chuckled at that comment. "Nope, just a handsome warlock, like Connor, and like you... You are one, right?"

Ambrose simply smiled, and then, their lips met as they tumbled back into his bed.

Indeed, as passions enflamed, time seemed to stand still...

* * *

Once the murmuring that had resulted from Mr. Webster's declaration had died down, Father Blackwood rose from his seat, straightened out his robes, and approached the defense's table. "Mr. Webster, the prosecution and witching community are quite familiar with mortal law. If young Sabrina's true and dominant nature is to be determined as either witch or mortal, then so be it. We shall invoke human laws to test her."

Mr. Webster shot up from his seat. "Preposterous. That was not what I was suggesting at all."

Father Blackwood ignored him, and continued, a small smirk on his pale face. "As such, there are two methods that the mortals, in the past, have used for discerning whether one was a witch or not. One; we subject her to trial by water. She will be bound and then dropped into the river. If she floats, then she is witch. But, if she drowns, then she is a mortal, and free to go."

Everyone applauded at that, and the coin grew cold in her hand. "Unacceptable," Mr. Webster snarled.

"Then, there is the second method: The accused will submit to being stripped and examined, in full view of the coven and court, for a witch's mark upon her flesh. Should such a mark be identified, and then this trial will proceed, _uninterrupted_. But, should no such mark be found, then this court and coven will be forced to recognize her so-called "_Humanity._"

As the court actually beg into cheer, and the infernal judges once more called for disorder, Sabrina, Aunt Zelda, and Aunt Hilda all sighed in horror and exasperation.

Shit.

* * *

_Later_

"Absolutely not!" Aunt Zelda declared through a mouthful of cigar smoke, as she paced back and forth, her joints creaking with every step.

"Please sit down, Zelda," Aunt Hilda begged. "You're little more than skin and bone. You're liable to collapse."

Aunt Zelda had been stewing in a rage ever since they had left the courthouse. They had even invited Mr. Webster and his ram in.

The man took a sip of his coffee and then turned to Sabrina. "Now, Sabrina, forgive me for being unduly forward, but I must inquire; are you even aware if a witch's mark exists on your body?"

Before she could even begin to answer, the door to the house opened. Mr. Webster's large ram got to its feet and... Started gnashing its teeth as in walked... Father Blackwood? "Actually, there might be another way," he said, as he all but glided in.

As everyone looked upon him in surprise, the High Priest gave a small smile. "I hope that you'll excuse this unannounced visitation of mine, but, as it happens, I come bearing the most felicitous of tidings."

Seeing that he had Sabrina and everyone else's attention, Father Blackwood continued. "I have pleaded to the Dark Lord on your behalf, Sabrina, and he has magnanimously offered a clean and safe path through this thicket."

"Oh praise Satan," Aunt Zelda said, after a long exhalation of cigar smoke.

"Indeed," Father Blackwood said. "The Dark Lord has agreed to waive your punishment in the Pit. In fact, he will even allow you yearly visitations with your little mortal friends but, there are a few conditions to our Lord's generosity; you must ratify your name in _The Book of The Beast, _and you will withdraw from Baxter High so as to begin your studies at the Academy of The Unseen Arts immediately. I am afraid that these conditions are quite non-negotiable."

In Sabrina's pocket, the coin went cold.

Aunt Zelda gave a happy burst of laughter. "But, this is absolutely perfect! Right, Sabrina?"

Sabrina looked at her aunt incredulously. Did she seriously still not get it?

Father Blackwood continued. "Well, the coven shall await your answer tomorrow night in court. Thus, for now, I bid you all a good morning." Then, with that, Father Blackwood left.

Mr. Webster flexed his fingers and crossed his arms. "It would be absolute folly to accept even a fraction of that deal."

"Are you insane?" Aunt Zelda exclaimed. "It is obvious that the Dark Lord has been moved by our plight to show mercy. Do you have any idea how rare that is?"

Mr. Webster stroked his chin. "While I am of the personal opinion that Mr. Scratch would not know the concept of mercy if it bit him on his hindquarters, I will admit that your aunt does have a point in her assessment, Sabrina. So, let us ruminate about that. Why would he be willing to offer a deal now? Because it is a trick. Please, I beg that you all remember who it is that you are dealing with!"

As he and Aunt Zelda began to bicker, Sabrina felt Aunt Hilda give her hand a comforting pat. All Sabrina could just do was sigh.

* * *

_November 5th_

_The next, next day_

As his alarm clocked blared to life with a shriek of hideous laughter, Ambrose grinned, and stretched his arms, only to find the space next to him to be empty.

He then looked up and saw that Luke had carved his number on the ceiling above Ambrose's bed, which made him chuckle.

Well, time to see if his guest was feeling chattier today-

Oh.

Oh, dear.

As he rose, he found a sad sight; Connor's iguana... it was dead.

He looked at it with sadness. "Huh. Guess you couldn't live without Connor could you, little one?"

* * *

Unseen by the warlock as he examined the dead familiar, outside, the two ravens perched on the tree shook their beaks.

_Well, that was fucking gross! Gonna have the taste of lizard on my beak for days!_

_Cease your complaining, brother. It had to be done. _

* * *

_Meanwhile..._

"A witch's mark?" Harvey asked as they walked, hand-in-hand. "That's actually a thing?"

Sabrina nodded. "Yeah, it is, and it's what I wanted to talk to you about," Sabrina said, as they came to a stop in the woods. "I need to ask a favor of you... and it's going to sound a bit crazy."

"...Okay. What is it?" he asked.

She sighed and then started to take off her backpack and coat, and then began to unbutton her shirt, making his tired eyes widen in surprise. "What-what are you doing?"

"I've looked and looked, but, since I've never been able to find a mark, I was thus hoping that maybe you could help. Maybe I missed something?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "...Okay. But, are you sure?"

"Yes. I trust you, Harvey. I love you, and I trust you to do the right thing, and to tell me the truth. As a matter of fact, I trust you more than I do anyone else right now."

As he nodded, she slowly resumed unbuttoning her shirt. Then, he shrugged and started taking off his own. At her confused look, she gave her a small smile. "Fair is fair, right?"

Wow, he really was a gentleman.

Soon enough, they stood shirtless, facing each other, though Sabrina made sure to keep her unhooked bra clasped to her chest, for now. Then, she turned and presented her back to him. She heard him exhale. "So, what exactly should I be looking for?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Just something that look's like a birthmark."

"Okay." Then, she felt his finger gently graze over her neck.

Up and down he trailed his finger, across her spine, shoulders, arms, leaving a trail of excited goosebumps across her skin.

Then, she turned to him, and took in his own body; tall, and, surprisingly muscled, though she did briefly glimpse a few fading bruises.

She looked up at him, and he looked down at her. She smiled, mischievous and naughty thoughts dancing across her mind. "Now, before you look any further..." she then reached up and kissed him.

He tasted like mint and meat. It was odd and wonderful.

* * *

When Harvey's lips met Sabrina's, he felt almost awash in the glow of her skin, and she tasted of sunlight and roses and stars, ad smelled of all things good and pure, and it was wonderful and brilliant...

For a moment, he forgot his troubles.

* * *

_Later_

Despite the length of their shirtless and exploratory make-out session in the woods, Sabrina and Harvey made it to school on time. Then, a text from Susie told Sabrina to come to the library.

When she enters, it was to find Roz and Susie sitting by the fireplace. Susie was comforting Roz, while the spectacled girl was holding herself, and staring at the fire with sorrow in her eyes.

"Hey," Sabrina called out as she sat down in the adjacent chair.

All Roz did was just give an unhappy sigh. "What's wrong?" Sabrina asked.

Susie answered. "We got called into Principal Hawthorne's office because he had some news about the book banning-"

"The PTA said that they would hold a town hall meeting where we could present our case to the school board. In _three _months," Roz finished.

Oh. "Oh, um, okay. Well, three weeks, three months, that's not so bad, right? I mean, even if it takes three years, Roz, we're gonna make them understand."

Susie nodded in agreement. "Yeah, yeah, that's what I told her."

Roz, however, did not look the least bit convinced, though she nodded as well. "Yeah, I know, I know. Three months is not a long time, but..." she then trailed off.

Sabrina leaned forward and shifted to the couch, concern all over her face. "Roz? What's wrong? What's going on?"

A moment later, Roz started to cry. "I'm sorry," she said between sniffs and sobs. "It's just, I'm always trying to do what my dad said, "Pray and face it bravely." That's his solution for everything. But... no amount of prayer is gonna stop what's coming."

"What are you talking about?" Sabrina asked.

Roz took a sobbing breath, took off her thick glasses, and then turned them over in her hands. "Myopic atrophy," she said, in a low voice. "Doctor Spector, uh, he said that... in about three months... maybe less... the ugliest, thickest glasses in all the world won't be able to stop me from going completely blind."

Susie looked shocked. Sabrina just lightly held Roz's hand, feeling the corners of her own eyes starting to well up. Roz let loose a sad chuckle. "You know, I even counted how many books... the number of books that I could realistically read, before it's too late, and it's... it's still too small a number."

She began to cry again. "That is why... that is why every single, last one is important."

All Susie and Sabrina could do at that moment was just desperately hugging their friend...

* * *

From her hiding place behind one of the shelves, Lilith's mind began to churn with ideas...

* * *

_After school_

"Now, don't worry," Tommy said, as he handed Harvey a hard-hat. "It's gonna be a short shift. Just a few hours of hard work, and then, before you know it, you'll be back topside with just some dirt on your face. Besides," he added with a rueful grin, "It'll shut Dad up, at least."

"Uh, yeah, right," Harvey offhandedly said as they approached the... entrance.

"Don't worry," Tommy continued. "You'll be on my crew, and I promise, I won't let you outta-"

Everything faded away from Harvey's senses. He could not move. The entrance of the mine looked like the maw of a hungry beast, waiting to gobble him up. The only sound he could hear was that of the demon's roar, and all he could smell was the same thing from eight years ago. Brimstone, Sabrina had called it.

It was still there. It was still in there, waiting for him, he couldn't do this, he couldn't do this, hecouldn'thercouldn'tcouldn'tcouldn't- "Harvey?"

The sound of her brother's voice, as well as his hand on his shoulder, made Harvey snap back and gasp in surprise, making him drop his helmet to the ground.

"Hey, it's okay. Breathe, just... take a breath."

He tired, but he felt sick, he couldn't. "Tommy, I... I can't."

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay."

"I'm sorry, but, I just can't, I can't go back in there, I can't-"

"I know," Tommy said, with a sad smile. "It's okay. I remember. Look, how about, for today, you just head back home. We'll try again later, okay?"

"What? But... but dad said-"

Tommy patted him on the shoulder with a reassuring grin. "It's fine. I'll see you at the house when I get home, okay?"

Harvey wanted to protest, to say something, but he couldn't. "It's going to be okay, Harv. I promise."

Before he could leave, Harvey then remembered what MR. Wednesday has asked him to do. "Oh, um, hey Tommy?"

"Yeah?"

"...Do you ever get weird dreams sometimes, about hunting things, or killing them, or even just running through the forest at night?"

Tommy looked at him oddly. "No... Can't say that I have." He then chuckled, and patted him on the shoulder again. "Man, I think you've been watching too many horror movies, bro. Still, just go home, okay?"

Harvey could do naught but nod, a bit too shocked at what his brother had just told him to really do anything except turn and walk out.

His brother didn't have any of the dreams?

But, Mr. Wednesday had told him that it was a dominant gene...

* * *

_Later that night, Spellman Residence_

Sabrina looked at her self in her vanity's mirror. A few hours before they had to go back to the courthouse. She then looked down at the coin in her hand and thought about her friends, their own fears.

She gripped the coin tightly and made up her mind.

_You okay, pretty girl? _Salem asked, from where he was lounging on her bed. "Fou?"

She looked at her familiar and gave a small grin. "Yeah... I think I am."

She then stood up and headed downstairs to the kitchen, where Mr. Webster and her aunts and Ambrose were all seated at the table, talking.

She cleared her throat. "Aunties, Mr. Webster," she said, making them all lookup. "I've made up my mind."

They all looked at her, and she continued. "I will not be taking the deal. I'll just submit to Blackwood's exam. Besides, I don't have a witch's mark, so there is nothing that I have to lose."

Aunt Zelda scoffed. "Yes, except for your dignity."

Sabrina glared at her, and her aunt just took a puff of her cigar. Ambrose sighed and gave a rueful grin. "So, back into the fray, eh, cousin?"

She nodded and then turned to Mr. Webster. "So, when they find out that I don't have a mark, Mr. Webster, what will happen then?"

"It is quite simple, " he answered, as he rose from his seat. "We will demand an immediate retrial, only one that will be held in a human court, where you will be _innocent _until proven guilty."

"Right, and we demand that my auntie's powers and youth be restored. That is non-negotiable."

Aunt Zelda sighed. "I do thank you for that, sweetheart, but to be stripped and pawed at in public-"

"Oh please. I've had worse done to me, Aunt Zelda."

That promptly shut her up, while Sabrina took a deep breath. "Besides... there are a lot of people facing their fears right now, fighting battles that they know they're not gonna win. But, they are still fighting them anyway. How can I not do the same? So, if this is my battle, well, then let's just get it over with."

She then looked at Mr. Webster. "But... there will be no tricks, and no plea bargains. Got it?"

The Lawyer looked at her, respect gleaming in his eyes, and then he bowed his head in agreement.

Sabrina let loose a nervous sigh, despite herself. "Right. We should go. I'll be outside."

* * *

As she watched Mr. Webster and Sabrina head outside, Hilda's mind was abuzz with fear for her little niece. Next to her, Zelda actually chuckled. "So very much like her father, that one."

No, no, no!

Hilda slammed her fist down on the table, briefly rattling the coffee cups, making Zelda and Ambrose jump briefly in surprise. "It just keeps getting worse and worse for her. I won't have it!

Ignoring the pains and creaking of her bones, Hilda rose from the table, with Ambrose lending a supporting hand. Zelda rolled her eyes. "And just where do you think you're going, sister?"

"Upstairs," Hilda curtly answered, with a slight groan. "Don't follow me. Don't wait for me. Just get our niece to court. You're not the only one in this family with secrets, Zelda Spellman.

At the foot of Hilda's bed was a trunk, and inside that trunk were all manner of mementos and knick-knacks that she had collected over the years. She looked in it. Nope, wrong level. With a groan, she lowered the lid, waved her hand over it, and then opened it again, to reveal a large assortment of everything from Sabrina's infanthood; her letter block, her favorite teddy, and... The baby record book that Diana had bought.

With a sigh and trembling hands, Hilda reached for it...

* * *

_The sounds of battle drew him closer from the depths of the forest. Intrigued, he crept out fo the woods. _

_On the field was the sight of an utter slaughter. Hordes of men and monsters were fighting and slaughtering each other, and the field was running red with blood. Screams and laughter and death rattles filled the air. _

_But, at the center of it all, was a single, terrifying figure. He was tall, and garbed in armor and a wolf pelt. Each swing of his two mighty axes seemed to cut down ten enemies each, drenching him in wave after wave of blood. Each of his mighty bellows sent a chill down the spines of all who heard it. _

_This warrior... he would make a good kill, a good meal! _

_He leaped on the battlefield, tearing out the throat of any who stood between him and this figure. _

_Closer, and closer did he wade through the madness, the figure's back ever towards him._

_Then, before he could leap upon the warrior's back, the figure stopped and turned towards him. _

_His face, it was..._

"HARVEY!"

With a gasp, Harvey's head shot up from his desk at the sound of his dad's enraged bellow.

As he scrambled to clean his desk of any drawings, his father stormed in, and grabbed him and shoved him by the front of his shirt. "When I tell you to do something, you little bastard, then you do it!"

"Hey, get the hell off me, dad!"

Harvey then got a heavy slap to his face that made his head spin and sent him reeling to the floor. Before he could get another, Tommy rushed it, and pushed their father off of Harvey "Dad, stop it!"

Their father swayed on his feet for a moment, then glared at Tommy. "You better watch yourself, boy," he warned.

He then turned his glare towards Harvey, who was still on the floor from the blow. "You. You are going to get your pansy little ass in the mine, and you will work an honest-to-God shift! It's about damn time that you started pulling your weight in this family, you little bastard."

"No," Tommy declared.

"Excuse me, boy?"

"That's not happening. I'll get more guys. Push come to shove, I'll take his shifts. But Harvey's done, Dad. I'm not gonna let him waste his life down that mine like..."

Though he left it unsaid, everyone in the room knew to whom he was referring. Without another word, their dad spat on the floor, turned on his heel and stormed out.

Tommy then knelt and helped Harvey to his feet. "Come on. Let's get you an icepack..."

* * *

_The Unholy Courthouse_

_Church of Night v. Sabrina Spellman_

_Night 3_

_Presided over by the Dishonorable and Infernal Three_

_Faustus Blackwood for the Prosecution_

_Daniel Webster for the Defense_

After arriving, Father Blackwood was the first to speak, as he stood in front of Sabrina and Mr. Webster. "Now, Sabrina," he began. "Am I to understand that you come now, before this court, ready to endure the test of the witch's mark, as described and demanded by your _mortal _laws?"

That last bit was directed at Mr. Webster, who scowled back.

"... Yes, Father Blackwood," she answered.

"Very well. Approach the three judges, and then turn and face the coven."

As Sabrina slowly rose, Mr. Webster then spoke up. "The defense requests that this examination, being of such an invasive degree, be held in private chambers."

"Denied."

What a pervert. Oh well. No turning back now-

"Stop!" Aunt Hilda suddenly cried out, as she bustled into the courtroom. "Stop, stop, stop!"

As she rushed to Mr. Webster to hand him something, Father Blackwood then scoffed. "If this is some feeble attempt by the defense to delay the agreed-upon- course of action-"

Before he could continue, Mr. Webster then spoke up. "Your Dishonors, I hereby call Hildegard Antoinette Spellman to the Stand!"

Father Blackwood scowled. "This is unacceptable, as the test is about to begin. I demand that-"

_"Hilda Spellman. Approach us," _the Infernal Three then said.

As Aunt Hilda made her way to the stand, Sabrina slowly sat back down. What was going on now? She had asked for no more tricks!

Mr. Webster cleared his throat. "Your Dishonors, I have new evidence to submit to the court." He then placed the book that Aunt Hilda had given him in front of her. "Ms. Spellman, if you would be so kind... could you please read the name printed here on this document?"

She nodded. "Yes, um, it reads _Sabrina Spellman_."

"Yes, witnessed by..."

"Witnessed by her mother, Diana Spellman... and, well, me, Hilda Spellman."

Mr. Webster then took up the document, and slowly approached Father Blackwood, like how a hunting cat would its cornered prey. "I hereby offer into evidence a baptismal certificate... notarized by the Holy Mother Church of Greendale."

At the mention of the church, the court became awash with boos.

Sabrina felt shocked. She had been baptized? When?

Father Blackwood cleared his throat. "Your Dishonors, if this certificate is indeed authentic... then it would seem that we have competing claims upon the soul of Sabrina Spellman."

"Incorrect!" Mr. Webster stated. "Instead, what we have here is a solid and binding contract, witnessed by my client's mother... one that was notarized and dated _one day_ before Edward Spellman inscribed his daughter's name into _The Book of the Beast... _therefore rendering the aforementioned inscription, the agreed-upon promise, the _binding pledge_, completely and utterly _null and void! _Quod Erat Demonstrandum!"

As he looked over the certificate that Mr. Webster had just slammed in front of him, Father Blackwood's pale face twisted into a snarl. "These... these last-minute theatrics do nothing but make an utter mockery of this unholy court!"

He held up the certificate in a clenched fist. "This.. Is spurious! This is completely and utterly outrageous!"

Sabrina gripped the coin in her pocket. She had had enough. "No!" she declared as she stood up. "I'll tell you what's outrageous, Father Blackwood! It's the Dark Lord's Behavior!"

Suddenly, the trap door in front of the Infernal Three burst open in a torrent of fire, shocking everyone to silence. Even Mr. Webster rose in slight shock. "Interesting," he said to Sabrina. "It would appear that you have just forced Mr. Scratch to the Bargaining Table. Whilst I and Father Blackwood have been summoned to the court's private chambers."

He then gestured to his ram. "Come along, Teethgrinder."

A moment later, Father Blackwood, Mr. Webster, and the ram (whose name was Teethgrinder, apparently) disappeared down the trapdoor.

The doors then slammed shut behind them.

A moment later, Sabrina, Aunt Zelda, and Aunt Hilda were outside.

Aunt Zelda turned to her sister in a rage. "How could you, Hilda?" she hissed. "How could you and Diana keep something like this from me?"

"Oh please," Aunt Hilda hissed back. "How is this any different to what you and Edward had done?"

"It is most definitely different! Not to mention utterly appalling! A _Christian _church!? Have you no shame, sister? Have you not a single ounce of pride in your heritage as a witch?"

"Wait, wait, wait," Sabrina interjected. "So, Dad didn't know that Mom had me baptized? She kept it a secret from him? Why would she do that?"

Aunt Hilda shrugged. "She told me to keep it a secret from him. I simply assumed that it was just Diana being... I don't know, sentimental? Perhaps she had a suspicion of what Edward had planned?"

Sabrina just groaned and threw up her hands in exasperation at it all. "Great. So they were both deceivers."

"Sabrina!" Aunt Zelda snapped. "Watch your tongue! Honor thy mother and father!"

In the distance, thunder rumbled. Sabrina took a deep breath, and then looked both of her aunts straight in the eye. "Okay. But this is it, aunties. No more secrets. Do you understand? No more lying to me about my own family... ever again. Got it?"

They looked oddly abashed, as they nodded their agreements.

The steeple bell then tolled three times, signaling them to get back inside, where Father Blackwood, Mr. Webster (and ram) had already returned from the _private chambers_.

Father Blackwood looked as if he had swallowed a sour pill, and he then spoke. "Due to conflicts of contract, baptisms, and breeding..." Wow, really? "The Hellbound Court of Greendale thus hereby decrees that Sabrina Spellman... shall retain her mortal life!"

As the court began to, once again, murmur, The High Priest continued. "However, it will be on the condition that she also attends the Academy of the Unseen Arts, as well as weekly Black Mass."

Mr. Webster leaned in. "If it helps, then try to think of this arrangement as dual-citizenship."

Well... it was better than nothing. Sabrina squeezed the coin and then stood up. "You Dishonors... I accept."

Father Blackwood nodded. "Very well. So be it. This court is thus hereby adjourned to the shadows. Meanwhile, full powers are hereby restored to the Spellman family!"

As he said this, almost like someone had clicked rewind on a film, Aunt Zelda and Aunt Hilda began to grow young again. With a whoop of joy, Aunt Zelda (who now looked in her early thirties again) stood up and tore off her veil and sunglasses. "Oh Praise Satan! I'm young again!"

As everyone left the courtroom, Sabrina looked to see Mr. Webster heading off towards his cart. "Mr. Webster? Would you, and your ram, like to come over to our house to celebrate?"

He looked at her, his face still humorless as ever, though there was a slight twinkle in his eye. "A most generous offer, Ms. Spellman, but one that I am afraid I must decline. It is late, and my task here is complete. As such, I must be on my way."

Sabrina nodded in understanding. "Well, still... thank you. Thank you for helping me win."

Seeing as how he did not seem to be a hugger, she held out her hand. He looked at it for a moment, and then, they shook. As they did, he spoke once more. "Some parting advice for you; Take full advantage of this qualified success. Learn everything you can about your adversary, for Mr. Scratch is a most wily and tenacious foe, and he will continue to try and tempt you. But, most importantly, beyond all that... Fight. Fight for what is yours, and never give up hope. It's what sustained me through the centuries, and it can do the same for you. If you can, then who knows... you may just become the first person to well and truly beat the Devil."

Overhead, they heard the sound of thunder.

Was it her imagination, or did he smile, just then?

"Goodnight, Sabrina Spellman. And Good luck."

With a tip of his hat, Mr. Webster and his ram ascended his cart, and they trotted off into the night...

* * *

As Hilda sat in bed, reading, she felt glad that the events of the past three days had finally resolved themselves, even if she had been forced to break the promise that she had made to Diana. But, at the same time, she felt that her sister-in-law would have understood.

Then, Zelda entered, dressed as always in that racy black nightgown of hers. "I've just had a long talk with father Blackwood. It would seem, Hilda, that you have been summarily excommunicated from the Church of the Night."

...

...

...

..."What? B-b-b-but they can't do that, can they?"

"Oh, they most certainly can," Zelda said, as she slipped into bed. "And it is right that they have done so. For Hell's sake, sister… You took part in a Christian baptism, and a _Catholic _one, no less! In doing so, you have cast a thick shadow of doubt on our devotion to the Church of the Night. And, as well you may know, our Dark Lord is a most vengeful lord."

No, no, no, no. This couldn't be happening! "Wh-wh-what do I do now, then" Hilda stammered out. "Sister?"

Her sister simply shrugged and scoffed in response. "Just be grateful that you have only been excommunicated. Now then, goodnight."

Hilda would have a very hard time falling asleep that night.

* * *

_Blackwood Manor_

Faustus ruminated over the events of the trial as he sifted through the various papers on his desk. If there was one thing he despised, it was grading papers, as well as responding to the angry letters of parents demanding to know why their precious spawn were not being showered with honors. But, that was one of his duties as Dean of the Academy.

Perhaps he would have some B tonight, as a way to soothe his nerves.

Once again, his chest scar prickled, and the demoness entered his study. "So," he said, as he set down his pen and leaned back in his seat. "Have you come to congratulate me?"

"No" she replied, as she sauntered over to his desk. "Besides, just what exactly should I be congratulating you on? A half-victory is no victory at all."

"On the contrary... I fully delivered on my promise to get her into the academy. And now that she is to be under my watch and authority... I'll be able to bend her to my will. Or break her. I honestly don't really have a preference."

The demoness chuckled. "It really is always just brute force with you men, isn't it? Real corruption... it is not a hammer. It is a thin, subtle blade. The half-breed's strength, those bonds that must be severed, they are to the mortals that she surrounds herself with. They are people that she loves."

She then leaned in close, until they were but inches alone. "But not to worry. I am quite adept at tearing souls apart. One little piece at a time..."

* * *

As he approached the border of the town, Daniel Webster saw a familiar, yet unfamiliar, person standing by the border.

Daniel pulled his cart to a stop. Waiting by the road was his friend. "Well?" Mr. Wednesday asked, through a mouthful of pipe-smoke. "How did it all go?"

Daniel Webster looked at the man for a moment and then nodded. "It all went as you foresaw. She will be attending the Academy of the Unseen Arts. It seems that Mr. Scratch desperately wants her on his side. And, were I to hazard a guess, I suspect that you know why. I still regret that you did not allow me to use my full oratory repertoire and legal skills."

Wednesday smiled. "You would probably be correct, old friend. As for the outcome, all I needed you to do was just enough. That's all I need for the time being… Just enough."

"Will you perhaps care enough o elucidate on your plans, then?"

"I could... but I think instead that I won't. Too many ears in this town."

The Lawyer sighed. "Very well, I will not press the subject, as I must be off. Good luck to you, Mr. Wednesday. That young lady though... she certainly is something."

"Indeed she is, my friend."

As the Lawyer then nudged his two horses forward, and vanished with the night wind, Waver Wednesday chuckled once more. "Indeed, Sabrina Spellman is _very _special."

He then looked down, as a scarred black cat padded up to him, and time seemed to slow to a crawl...

* * *

_November 6th_

Roz looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, mostly at her eyes.

Still no cloudiness yet. So, at least there was that.

Suddenly, the lights flickered.

Great, just another example of the nationwide budget cuts to school funding.

Then, when she turned back to her reflection-

She gasped in shock! Her eyes! They were solid black!

A hand on her shoulder shook her form this sight. "There you are," Sabrina said. "We've been looking all over for you!"

Sabrina smiled and gestured with her head. "Come on!"

Roz turned to look back at her reflection. Her eyes were normal. Huh, must have been a trick of the light or something.

Roz followed her friend to the library, where they found Susie, Ms. Wardwell, and the rest of W.I.C.C.A. standing around one of the tables. "What's all this?" Roz asked.

The group parted to reveal a box, full of... Roz gasped in happy surprise.

The Bluest Rose. "What's going on?"

Ms. Wardwell grinned. "Welcome to Baxter High's new, Secret book club. Sponsored by W.I.C.C.A. Banned titles only, and with you leading the group, of course."

* * *

Lilith then watched as the mortal and the half-breed hugged. Ugh, how disgusting. She felt offended by the very sight. "Aw, how wonderful. I'm so proud of you girls. I think that we are all going to have so much fun reading all those juicy, forbidden novels that they don't want us to. In fact, I've got quite a list."

As she spoke, her eyes alit on each of the half-breed's friends. "Yep, a little something for each one of you."

* * *

Outside, two raven's watched, and, in his room, Mr. Wednesday smiled...

* * *

**A/N Just in case you are wondering, yes, the lawyer was THE Daniel Webster. Since this is an American Gods' crossover, think of him as sort of an... elevated folk hero.**

**Also, I am sorry about the f-bomb. Please do not hate me for it. Just making Harvey's father more unlikeable, and there will be a reason for that later on, as to why he _hates _Harvey so much. **

**Anyway, read, review, and enjoy! I left a hint as to a certain redheaded magician, who will appear very soon...**


	12. Chapter 12

Fate Ragnarök Chapter 12: Harrowing

_November 6th, Thursday_

The rest of the day after the trial went by for Sabrina without much fanfare. Though, Sabrina would be lying if she said that she was not anxious about having to attend the Academy.

So, for the time being, she devoted as much time as she could to hang out with her friends and boyfriend, and, also just being normal.

At the moment, that meant hanging out at Doctor Cerberus', having an in-depth discussion about the 1986 classic, _The Fly_, starring the unique and incomparable Jeff Goldblum. Even Mr. Wednesday had joined in on the conversation.

"No, no, no!" Susie said. "_The Fly _is about body dysmorphia."

"Really?" Harvey asked. "I thought that it was just about some wacko who turns himself into a fly."

Sabrina nodded her head. "Well, the original was. But Cronenburg did say that his remake was a metaphor for STDS."

"That is true, but he also had stated that it was not just an analogy for STDs, but for the very concept of disease itself, such as terminal cancer, and even the aging process," Mr. Wednesday said, as he sipped at a chocolate milkshake.

Susie nodded her head in eager agreement. Sabrina had a suspicion that Mr. Wednesday was becoming one of Susie's favorite teachers.

Roz then cleared her throat. 'So, guys, what are we doing this weekend?"

"Hopefully working on the papers that you all were assigned in my class about the fall of the Byzantines?" Mr. Wednesday asked.

They all shared a slight chuckle at that, and then Susie shrugged. "Yeah, well, my dad is heading off to the Farm Expo for three days. So, that means that I'm going to be stuck at home by myself."

Roz's face lit up. "Ooh! I know! Let's have a girl's night!"

Susie did not look totally enthused at the idea, and bit her lip. "Uh.."

But Roz was not deterred. "Oh come on Susie, please? My mom and dad have been trying to get me to lead this youth group at their church this weekend, which, as you can tell, is _super high _on my priorities. But, staying with you this weekend, well, that would give me the perfect excuse not to do that."

Susie shrugged. "I... I don't know, Roz."

Roz then looked at Sabrina. Crap. " 'Brina? Are you in at least?"

Ah, man. "Actually... I'll be at the expo too, this weekend. I'm going to be helping my aunt Hilda sell her honey there."

Out of the corner of her eye, she exchanged a knowing look with Harvey. Roz looked a bit crestfallen. "Really? You'll be spending the entire weekend there?"

"Yep, I am."

Harvey patted her on the shoulder. "Sounds like you'll have some fun. But, if you want, call me the second that you come back. I'll come right over."

She smiled, and he smiled back. "But of course." She then leaned in for a kiss.

It felt as if their lips were conjoined.

Roz awkwardly cleared her throat. "Uh... it's only for three days, Romeo. Try to relax?"

Mr. Wednesday chuckled. "Ah, let them be, Rosalind. Young love is something to be admired. It takes me back to the days of my own youth in fact..."

The speaker over the door rang out in cackling laughter as it was opened, making him trail off as the sound cut through the all the noise of the store. Sabrina and Harvey reluctantly broke the kiss, and they all turned to see who had just entered the shop. It was a beautiful woman with long red hair. She was dressed in an odd combination of a green dress and long tan trench coat, with lacey stockings and high-heels. Clutched in one gloved hand was Mr. Wednesday looked up, and a smile came upon his bearded face.

"Why... Lady Touko, as I live and breathe!" Mr. Wednesday exclaimed, as he rose form his seat, and hurried over to the woman.

"Mr. Wednesday,. It's been a long time." The redheaded woman smiled in greeting as the two warmly embraced, and he then kissed her hand.

He then guided her over to Sabrina and the others. "Children, allow me to introduce my old friend, Lady Touko Aozaki, of both Japan and Great Britain."

The woman gave them all a nod, as she then nonchalantly lip up a cigarette.

She seemed... nice.

For some reason, she felt Harvey briefly tense as the woman approached.

Though, to be fair, this woman did seem somewhat intimidating.

She then looked at her watch. Crap, time to go...

* * *

Wednesday looked upon his compatriot as they both watched the four teenagers leave the store.

"So," The Magician said, cigarette smoke emanating from her mouth as she took a seat at the counter, ignoring the dirty looks she was given. "So, those are the ones, huh?"

He nodded, as he was given a fresh milkshake. "Indeed. Sabrina Spellman and her little band of friends."

"Hmph... They don't look like much."

He shrugged as he sipped. "The best ones rarely do."

* * *

_Later, that night_

Sabrina sorted her clothes into her suitcase, while Ambrose watched and scratched Salem behind the ears. He could obviously tell that she was not very enthused about what was to come. "Come on. Aren't you even just a little bit excited?" He asked.

"No. I'm really just stressed, Ambrose," Sabrina replied, as she stuffed a pair of shirts into her trunk. "Starting a new school is something that I, and many other people in my position, find stressful." She snapped shut her briefcase. "Not to mention the fact that I am still lying to Roz and Susie. Besides, I don't really get why I have to be at the academy for three whole nights."

"Because, it's your induction," he explained, as he rose from the couch. "Think of it like this; you are on the precipice of a most stupendous new adventure at the Academy of the Unseen Arts. You will be getting to meet some of the most interesting witches and warlocks that hail from all over the world. As a bonus, some of them (a great deal many, actually) will be hot."

Sabrina rolled her eyes in disgust at what her cousin was not so subtly hinting at. "Ambrose, I am not going to the Academy so that I can hook up with hot warlocks. I am only going to the academy so that I can learn how to defeat the Dark Lord. I am going to learn how to conjure him, bind him, and then banish him. That is my only agenda."

Since he said nothing else, she went back to packing.

* * *

_The Next Day_

_November 7th,_

_Friday_

Aunt Hilda was bustling around the kitchen as Sabrina came downstairs. As she entered, her aunt looked up, and then snapped her fingers. "Oh, before I forget, I made you these."

She picked up a bundle of smaller, cloth-wrapped things, and handed them to Sabrina. "Here you go, my duck. They're to take with you to the academy, Just keep them in your little pockets."

Sabrina looked them over. "Protection charms?"

Aunt Zelda's groan of exasperation announced her arrival, alongside Salem's small hiss. "Really, Hilda? Honestly, what will you give her next? Crystals? Or perhaps a bundle of sage?"

Aunt Hilda's cheeks swelled slightly in indignation. "Well, excuse me, Zelda, but I was just concerned that she's going to get bullied. I mean, you know how cruel girls can be at that age... or any age, really." She muttered that last bit under her breath.

"Don't worry about me, Aunt Hilda," Sabrina assured, as she idly examined one of the charms. "I can take care of myself." She gently gripped the coin in her pocket.

"I know, dove," her aunt said, as she shoveled pancakes onto a plate.

Then, her face lit up with an idea. "Ooh, I know! How about if you were to take Salem with you? Or maybe we could just teleport him to you."

Aunt Zelda scoffed at that, and she shooed Salem off the counter. "Utter nonsense. Only infants and ninnies take their familiars to school with them."

She then chuckled. "I mean, remember when you tried to bring your spiders with you? How the other students all laughed and called you names?"

Judging by the look on Aunt Zelda's face, she did indeed remember. "Yes... I remember one in particular."

She punctuated that last bit with a firm slam of her cleaver through a hunk of raw meat.

Aunt Zelda then leaned in towards Sabrina. "You know, my years at the Academy were some of the happiest times of my life. Oooh, the books I read, the friendships that I cultivated. Let me tell you, it was like being part of the most marvelous salon in the world, arguing all day about ideas, philosophy."

Sabrina had to admit, that did sound rather nice.

Aunt Zelda then smiled in fond remembrance. "You know, your father and I used to get into such heated debates."

And, the moment just got ruined. Sabrina felt her left eye twitch. "Really? Because, from I recall, you two seemed to be on the same page when it came to signing my name into _The Book of The Beast_."

Aunt Zelda actually had the grace to look slightly abashed at that reminder.

Aunt Hilda cleared her throat. "Right then. Eat up, and I'll drive you to school."

"No. Absolutely not, Hilda, "Aunt Zelda declared, as she rose from her seat. "You have been excommunicated, or have you actually forgotten?"

Aunt Hilda scowled a bit. "Oh, but of course not, sister. How could I possibly forget when I have you to remind me about it every _bloody_ minute?"

"Regardless, as a consequence, you cannot set foot within spitting distance of the Academy, or any other Church of the Night property, for that matter."

Aunt Hilda bristled as she stepped up to Sabrina. "Well, at the very least, I can give my niece a bloody hug before she goes, now can't I?"

She then hugged Sabrina very tightly. Sabrina didn't mind though, as Aunt Hilda always gave the best hugs.

* * *

A November breeze gently rustling her hair, Sabrina set off for the Academy.

Per her aunt's instructions, she headed for the train tracks. From there, all she had to do was just head west.

As she approached them, she saw two familiar faces; Mr. Wednesday, and his friend, Ms. Aozaki. He was smoking his pipe, and she a cigarette. he wore his hat, and her head was bare.

"Mr. Wednesday?"

He looked up and smiled around his pipe, his eyes hidden by his dark sunglasses. "Hello, Sabrina. Touko and myself just wanted to escort you part of the way to the Academy. Fret not, as you will find no better escort around, but, only if you would allow us?"

That was... a bit odd, but, Sabrina did not mind the company. "Sure. I don't mind."

"Excellent. So then, shall we be off?"

They started to walk. "So, it's truly off to the Academy then?" Mr. Wednesday asked, and he and Ms. Aozaki started to walk side-by-side with her.

"Yep, at least for this weekend anyway."

"Indeed. And what field do you intend to pursue at this school for witchcraft and warlockery?"

"Conjuration and binding."

Ms. Aozaki chuckled. "Those are some interesting fields. A person can get up to all sorts of mischief with those sorts of skills. Matter of fact, I once dated a girl who had bound a thousand angels and demons within her flesh. She was... _spectacular._"

...Cool. "Cool. So, why are you two here, then?"

"Because, my dear, we want to help you," Mr. Wednesday explained.

"Help me?"

"Indeed."

As he spoke, Wednesday held up his hand. For a brief moment, through the glove, Sabrina saw lines of turquoise glow. Then, he traced a symbol in the air, and a small, coins sized flame appeared, floating in midair.

He then proceeded to flit it between his fingers, like an actual coin. Just like in the diner, she watched, entranced.

As it danced between his fingers, he spoke. "I can use runes that can turn water into snow, make men fly higher and faster than a bird, and know charms that can protect one from all wounds, heal a broken heart, and even briefly speak with the dead. Meanwhile, Touko here has dealt with horrors and wonders beyond your darkest and wildest comprehensions. She can conjure a sea of flames hot enough to melt a mountain, and can bend great and terrible creatures to her very whim with but a thought and a twinkle in her eye. Between the two of us, we have forgotten more about magic then most will ever learn. We can teach all of that to you, my dear, how to increase all your senses until you can hear the heartbeat of a bird on the other side of the globe, or be able to punch through solid titanium. Trust me when I tell you that what I and Touko here can teach will be a richer education than what they will attempt to shove down your throat at that witch and warlock school of yours."

Sabrina nodded slowly, as he made the coin vanish in a puff of smoke. "But... how can we start learning? I don't think that I'll just be able to sneak out from that place."

Ms. Aozaki was the one to answer her concern, reaching into the pocket of her trench coat, and fishing out a smooth stone, engraved with a single rune, which she then deposited into Sabrina's hand. "When you are at that little academy of yours, preferably when you are asleep, hold this stone tightly in your hand. It will do the rest. But, until then, after your weekend, meet us out in the fields after school. There, like Mr. Wednesday said, we'll teach you a few tricks."

Hmm. Perhaps things would be all right after all. "So, what are some of the other things that you can teach me?" Sabrina asked.

The Red-haired woman just smirked, and then snapped her fingers.

A moment later, she and Mr. Wednesday vanished before Sabrina could even blink.

Sabrina had to admit, that was pretty freaking cool.

Sabrina looked down at the stone in her hand. With a happy shrug, she pocketed it next to the coin, and then she continued on by the tracks.

* * *

About an hour later, she arrived.

From the outside, the building did not look like much. Aside from the front entrance, which was labeled 'Gehenna Station,' the whole place looked a bit run down. Then, as she go closer... Sabrina heard music.

Sitting on the front steps, idly playing a small wooden flute, was a tall boy, about her age, with short, spiky red hair that matched his somewhat punkish-looking clothes. Sitting next to him, eyes closed and head bobbing with the music, was a younger boy with bowl-cut brown hair who was dressed in a more conservative garb. Clutched in his small hands was a small chalkboard with her name etched on it. He looked too young to even be in middle school.

**(OST: FFXIII, Serah's theme, Flute cover)**

The music was very beautiful, and Sabrina could not help but feel entranced.

After a few minutes, the tall boy finished his song, and the pair then looked up as Sabrina approached. " 'Ello there," the older boy said with an accent, extending his hand as he rose, a smile on his lips. "Name's Rey Nardvos. This here be Quentin Corvus. You must be Sabrina Spellman."

"You know who I am?" she asked, as she shook his hand, which felt oddly calloused.

"Bloody right we do," Rey laughed. "Who doesn't ken who you are? The wee bairn who ran from 'er own Baptism in naught but a slip and 'er bare feet. Must say, tha' took some serious bullocks."

"Um... thanks, I guess. Are... are you two students here?"

The younger boy nodded his head and spoke in a higher-pitched voice. "Of course, miss. We are here to show you to Father Blackwood's office."

"Don't mind this wee lad," Rey said, as he patted the boy on the head. "Always so serious for his age, this one."

Sabrina watched, as he seemed to pocket his flute, making it almost vanish. "You play the flute wonderfully."

"Thanks. Bit of a 'obby ah picked up a while back. Most of the others 'ere don't like it, but Quentin and some of the other wee ones 'ere enjoy it."

He gestured. "So, come on. Follow us, abandon all hope, ye who enter here, and whatnot."

He flashed her a toothy grin at his joke, and his teeth were very white.

Sabrina hefted her trunk, and followed the pair in through the front gates.

The first thing she noticed was red... and then black. As they walked through the hallways full of students, towards a room in the shape of a pentagram, and with a bunch of stairways and doors leading out from it, Rey with his hands shoved into his pockets, and Quentin with his back ramrod straight, the little boy began to speak, as they approached the center of the hallway, in which stood a massive stone statue of the Dark Lord. "The academy was constructed according to the principles of sacred Geometry. Each room is a perfectly proportioned pentagon that locks with the one next to it. Though, no one really knows how many pentagons there are, actually. Some even think that there's an infinite number."

"Either tha', or th' mad buggers just got blind drunk while building, and never bothered to actually count th' damned things," Rey said, which earned him a small look from Quentin.

As they approached the statue, which was of the Dark Lord surrounded by a young boy and girl, it did not escape Sabrina's notice how everyone was starting at them, though, more specifically, at her.

Doing her best to ignore them, she, Rey, and Quentin continued on their way.

A moment later, there were in front of a rich-looking door. Rey lifted his right hand, and knocked on the door. "She's 'ere, guv!"

"Thank you, Mr. Nardvos," Came Father Blackwood's voice. "You and your little friend may leave now."

As the odd pair turned and started to walk away, Rey winked at Sabrina. "Good luck, girlie."

A moment later, Sabrina found herself standing before Father Blackwood's desk. He looked at her from across the desk, almost like a hawk. He looked at her a moment longer, and then cleared his throat and spoke, with a smile that did not seem to reach his eyes. "Welcome to the Academy of Unseen Arts, Miss Spellman. Now, I would like to take this moment to apologize for any... unpleasantness that has now doubt brewed between us over the past few days, but, I do hope you realize that it was only because we were just so absolutely desperate for you to come here."

...Sure. That seemed believable.

The High Priest chuckled, and then handed her a sheathe of papers. "Now, I've taken the liberty of drawing up your schedule. I hope that you will find it to be satisfactory."

Sabrina flipped through the papers, her frown growing deep with each page. She then cleared her throat, as Father Blackwood took a seat. "Um.."

He looked up. "Yes?"

She took a deep breath. "What about classes like conjuring? Or maybe binding rituals? Demonology?"

He looked at her as if she said something foolish. "Those are a bit advanced for a first year. To gain access, you do have to fulfill the academy's general requirements first." He then pulled out a pocket watch from beneath his robes. "In fact, I do believe that you are due for choir practice. Come, come, let us be off."

Choir practice?

Seriously?

* * *

Father Blackwood led her to a room, from which Sabrina could hear the sound of singing. The interior of the room looked a lot like the music room back at Baxter high.

There were several students inside, all signing. At the bottom of the rows, conducting them, was an austere-looking woman in dark blue.

To Sabrina's slight chagrin, she also the saw the Weird Sisters at the front of the chorus.

As she and Father Blackwood entered, the singing died away, as the room watched her approach.

Father Blackwood cleared his throat, as the teacher turned to regard them with dark eyes. "Forgive this most untimely interruption, my dear, but I have a new addition to your ranks. Sabrina Spellman, this is Lady Augusta Ebony, the music teacher, as well as my right hand and vice-principal."

As Sabrina shook the woman's hand, Lady Ebony looked her over. "Well, I've heard a great deal about you, Sabrina. In fact, I would say that we've all heard a great deal about you. Welcome. I also knew your father quite well."

That earned a mocking chuckled from the rest of the class.

Well, nice to know that she was welcome here. Yep, really nice.

Father Blackwood cleared his throat again, as he glanced down at his watch. "Well, then, I shall leave Ms. Spellman in your capable hands, as I really must be off. Good day to you, Lady Ebony, children."

The closing of the door behind him sounded much louder to Sabrina than it should have been.

The Lady Ebony then leveled a hard and disinterested stare at Sabrina, which was mirrored by the rest of the class. "Now then, young lady. Can you sight-read sheet music? I need to hear just a verse or two, so that I have some idea of where to place you in the choir. No dawdling now."

Sabrina took the music in hand. Well, she could only do her best.

With a swallow and a deep breath, she started to sing...

* * *

_Later, at lunch_

Sabrina's stomach was slightly growling as she sat down in the cafeteria.

It seemed that singing was a hungry bit of work, though, she honestly did not thing she had done _that _well.

It definitely did not merit the death-glare that Prudence had given her. That was probably going to bite her in the rear later.

At least the food here seemed to be good.

"Well, well, if it 'aint the bloomin' songbird 'erself!"

Sabrina looked up as Ray and Quentin sat down alongside her, the red-haired teen with a wide grin on his face as he leaned on his elbows. " 'Eard that ya made quite the entrance at bloody choir. Well done, girlie."

"Indeed," Quentin added. "We heard that it was a most exemplary performance."

Sabrina could not help the slight blush that came upon her cheeks. "Really, it... it wasn't _that _great."

Rey chortled around a mouthful of food before swallowing it. "Bloody 'ell, 'taint no need ta be so feckin' modest, girlie. Take a wee bit of pride in yer gifts."

Huh. Despite his cursing, she could tell that he was being oddly sincere. She smiled as she took a bite of chicken. "Thanks."

He flashed her a grin, which she returned. "So, what are you two studying here?"

"Well, wee Quentin here hasn't decided yet. As fer myself? I specialize in Charms, evocation, and illusions, with a large dash of necromancy. Sort o' stuff that's always good fer a practical gag now an' then. How about you, girlie? What dark arts do you want tucking under yer belt?"

"Conjuration, binding, and demonology."

That made him chuckle. "Ah, just lyke yer old man! Well, good luck ta ya on that. Man was a bloody genius in those fields."

The mention of her father still stung a bit, in light of what Sabrina had recently learned from the trial, but, she managed to brush it off. "So I've heard."

Rey looked at her for a moment and then smiled again. "Ach, but worry not. I can tell that you'll do great, maybe even just fine."

That made her chuckle. Even Quentin joined in, though, oddly enough, Sabrina noticed that he was not eating.

Then, the sound of approaching footsteps made the grins vanish from Rey and Quentin's face. "Feck," he said.

Sabrina's face joined them, as the Weird Sisters approached their table.

Their leader, Prudence, a tall, beautiful girl with chocolate skin, brown eyes, and dyed-white hair, gave a smile at Sabrina through lips that had a few piercings, as well as one through her nose. "Rey, Half-breed. Hope we're not interrupting. Mind if we join you?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Sabrina saw Rey's hand finger his knife, and a look of disgust in his eyes.

Wanting to defuse the situation as quickly as possible, she nodded. "No, not at all. Take a seat, if you want."

With another smile that did not even reach her nose, Prudence and her little coterie sat down across from Sabrina and her new friends, their movements graceful, like those of a snake's.

After a moment of heavy slice, Prudence spoke. "So, half-breed, tell me; how are you enjoying the academy so far? Is it like your... other school?"

The question caught Sabrina a bit off guard. Why was she asking this? "You mean Baxter High? Um, no, not really."

Prudence nodded, and then chuckled. "Say, want to know what I heard? My sisters and I heard that you didn't want to take your Dark Baptism, because you were head-over-heels _in love_ with some little mortal boy. Guess it must be some Spellman kink, huh? Slumming it with mortals? Like father, like daughter, hmm?"

As she and her two goons smiled at the joke, Rey let loose a mirthless chuckle. "Well, Prudence, I don't think that you and things One and Two 'ave 'nough on yer trays to eat there. Ya should get more food. After all, it's a full-time gig, being such complete and utter _cunts_."

She returned his chuckle, while her minions glared at him. "Such vitriol, Rey, and after what we shared. But, I guess that just comes with being a prankster-slut, huh?"

Instead of answering her, Rey turned to Sabrina, a strained grin on his face. "Say, girlie, hows about me and wee Quentin here, we walk you to your next class? The air here's gotten a bit unbearable, and it seems tha' I've lost my appetite."

Sabrina suddenly felt the same, as she put down her fork. "Sure. Let's go."

She then looked over her shoulder at the three witches. "See you later, ladies."

"Oh, don't worry, half-breed," Prudence replied with a toothy smile. "We will."

As she, Rey, and Quentin got up to leave, Sabrina could feel the eyes of the Weird Sisters, burrowing into her back...

* * *

_Later, Susie's house, night_

As they watched The Man dance with Mary's ghoulish doppelgänger, Roz leaned in towards Susie. "I just love these old movies," she whispered, though a mouthful of popcorn. "So, what's this one called again?"

"It's _Carnival of Souls_," Susie whispered back. "Fun fact, it was filmed in Salt Lake City."

Suddenly, Roz heard the sound of a bell ringing throughout the house. "Uh... what as that?" she asked.

Susie looked... guilty? "Roz..."

"Wait... is there someone else in the house with us?"

"Look, I tried to tell you..."

"Tell me what? What's going on? Who's here?"

Susie looked up towards the ceiling for a moment, and then sighed. "It's my uncle. He's... he's really sick. So, he rings the bell whenever he needs something."

As if on cue, the bell rang again. Susie sighed. "Look, I should probably go check on him."

Roz looked at her friend with pity, as she set down her fired, and applied some hand sanitizer. "Well, I should obviously come with you."

Roz and Susie headed up the stairs. Each step creaked as they walked upon them. With each step, the unease slowly grew within Roz's gut, but, she pressed on, with Susie in the lead.

Then, they reached the room.

Slowly, Susie opened the door, the creak almost deafening.

What Roz saw... her mouth dropped open, and her hands were now itching for sanitizer.

As quietly as possible, she shook her head, and then closed the door as she and Susie scurried off.

_A moment later, whilst safely under a blanket..._

"What... what happened to him?" Roz asked, once she and Susie were safely back on the couch, and more hand sanitizer had been applied.

Susie shrugged. "We're... we're not entirely sure. Uncle Jesse got sick working in the mines for Harvey's dad. It was so weird. That morning, he got up, and he was happy and fine and a bit goofy, like always... later, we found out that he just... just went crazy. He kept screaming that he saw something. Some kind of... monster. After that, he's never been the same."

Susie swallowed, as her eyes got a bit wet. "My dad and I take care of him, make sure he gets his meds, but... most of the time, he's sedated, quiet, but... once in a while... he has... episodes. Oddly enough, it's gotten worse since the eclipse."

"And your dad just leaves you alone with him, like that?" Roz asked, incredulously.

Susie shrugged. "It's fine. I told him that it would be okay, that I was ready for the responsibility, but..."

As she trailed off, Roz looked Susie dead in the eye. "Are you?"

Susie slowly shook her head. "I... I just don't know. But... if I keep the door to his room locked, will you stay with me the rest of the weekend?"

Roz looked at her for a long moment, and then hugged her tight. "Of course."

That earned her a smile, and Susie soon fell asleep on Roz's lap...

* * *

_Meanwhile, Academy of Unseen Arts, Girl's Dormitory_

It had been a long day, and, at the moment, Sabrina was just thankful to finally rest her head. The beds were pretty comfortable, but she still found it hard to get comfortable, turning and tossing a bit.

She then remembered the stone the Ms. Aozaki had given her.

She reached into her bag and held it tight as she closed her eyes.

As she did, unbeknownst to her, the stone seemed to painlessly melt into the palm of her hand...

* * *

_When she opened her eyes, she was standing in a wide and endless plain, under a sky lit up with countless stars, and shifting nebulae. A gentle and soothing breeze ruffled her hair. _

_"_Welcome, my dear," came a familiar voice.

_She turned, and Saw Mr. Wednesday and Ms. Aozaki, standing behind her. They were each smoking. _

"Glad you could make it," _Ms. Aozaki said, though a mouthful of smoke. _"I almost thought that you weren't going to show up at all."

"I, however, had total faith that you would, my dear," _Mr. Wednesday added._

_Sabrina looked about, at the sky, the gourd, and the two. _"Am... am I dreaming? Where am I?"

_Ms. Aozaki chuckled. _"I think that all depends upon your point of view, girl. As for where you are? Think of this place as... Backstage."

"Backstage? Backstage to what?"

_Mr. Wednesday shrugged. _"To everything. Dreams, the waking world, reality? Who truly knows? But, that is not important. It is time we began."

_Sabrina blinked. When her eyes opened, they were sitting in a circle. _

"Now, Sabrina. Tell us; what have you learned so far at the academy, and what have your aunt's taught you? For instance, from where does magic come forth for your usage?"

_Sabrina thought about it for a moment. _"Well, while they told me that it was something we're born with, the overall source is supposed to come from the Dark Lord..."

_Ms. Aozaki chuckled derisively as she took a drag of her cigarette, the arid smell fresh in Sabrina's nostrils. _"Really? You actually are taught to believe that garbage? I'm impressed that you lot have lasted this long. Wow. Just wow."

_Sabrina could not help but feel a bit insulted. Meanwhile, Mr. Wednesday shot Ms. Aozaki a stern look. _"Be nice, Touko," _he chided. _"It is not our place to disparage other beliefs." _He then turned back to Sabrina. _"But, in her own way, my college is correct. There is no 'one' source of magic. There are in fact many theories as to where it originates, and how one accesses it. Some think it comes from ambient particles in the air, or under the crust of the earth. Myself, I hold the opinion that it is simply a matter of belief. Believe that you can do something, like magic, and no door will be closed to you."

_He held up a gloved hand. _"Your first lesson, your first _real _lesson, will be to channel magic across your entire body, making it faster, and more durable, like stone or steel. This is called 'reinforcement.' Are you ready?"

_Sabrina did not even hesitate to nod her affirmative. _"So, what do I do?"

"If it helps, try to picture your power and magic as circuits running through your power. Too much power, and they overload. Too little, and you don't get the result that you want. But just enough... and you can make the machine truly start running. Start with your right hand, and work your way up. Picture the circuits, the power, and think of skin as hard as steel, and quick reflexes."

_Sabrina looked at her right hand. She blinked, and tried to picture circuits running through her skin. She focused really hard. There was a flash of bright turquoise, and then a burning sensation lanced itself through her bones, making her cry out in pain. _

_Mr. Wednesday shook his head. _"You tried too much power. Remember; let be like a gradual filling of the circuits, not a flood. Try again. Focus not so much on the power, but the control. Believe that you can do this, and you will."

_Sabrina shook out her hand. She could do this._

"If it helps," _Mr. Wednesday continued, "_Try to bring forth to your mind anything that makes you feel safe and secure and warm. Bring those to the forefront of your mind... and let them usher forth."

_She closed her eyes, and took a slow, deep breath. _

_Focus._

_Focus._

_Focus._

_She thought of her Aunt Hilda's freshly baked cookies and hugs; Of Aunt Zelda's immovable presence and the smell of her cigar smoke; of Harvey's arms, wrapped tight and lovingly about her as he and she kissed; _

_Of what she had seen through the Malum Mallus, of the giant white buffalo, and the wolf..._

**_Believe_**

_Another sensation made its way across her hand, but unlike before, it was not painful. It felt warm, like... like a nice bath, or Aunt Hilda's freshly baked sweets and cookies, or... Or how Harvey felt when they hugged, warm and protective. _

_Slowly, the warmth began to spread. _

_Mr. Wednesday laughed. _"Open your eyes."

_She slowly did and looked down in wonder. _

_Glowing lines of turquoise had traced themselves all about her skin in intricate designs. They really did look like the lines on a circuit board. Plus, she felt... great. Stronger, faster, just... more! And Warmer. _

_Mr. Wednesday smiled. _"Well done, my dear. You have successfully cast the spell of Reinforcement."

_He then tossed her a large, fist-sized stone. To her surprise, her hand shot out faster then she had ever moved before and she caught it. She then realized that she was easily holding it in one hand, as if it were as light as a feather. _

"Crush it," _Mr. Wednesday instructed._

_Without hesitation, she gripped it tightly. To her surprise, it crumbled to a fine powder in her palm._

_This._

_Was._

_AWESOME!_

_Then, she suddenly perked her head up, as the lines faded. _

I_n the back of her mind, she thought she could hear something. It almost sounded like she could hear... chanting?_

_Mr. Wednesday's face grew somber. _"It seems that the lesson is over for the night, my dear. But, worry not. We shall meet again soon, both here, and in-person once more. Au revoir. And remember; all it takes is belief."

_Sabrina blinked, and suddenly, Mr. Wednesday and Ms. Aozaki had vanished. _

_Suddenly feeling a bit of trepidation, she looked around at the now-empty field... and she gasped!_

_Standing in front of her was Quentin. How was he here?_

_However, the look in his eyes silenced anything she was a bout to say. He leaned in, and whispered._ "Whatever you do, do not show them that you are scared. If you do, they will kill you on the spot."

Sabrina wanted to say something, but her eyes, they felt so, so heavy. So... so heavy. She felt herself falling backward, and falling, and falling... and falling. Then there was something beneath her. Was it her bed?

But, if it was her bed, then why did she feel cold? And why did her bed feel... damp, like dirt?

With a gasp, she slowly looked up. "Wait," she whispered to her self. "What... where am I?"

She looked about. She was in some small, cylindrical room. The walls were close enough that she could touch either side by reaching out her hands, but, when she looked up, she could see the night sky. The walls were both smooth, and yet also covered with old roots.

How had she gotten here?!

The doors to the strange room suddenly clattered open, making her get to her feet. In walked Prudence and her goons, smirks on their faces. "You, little half-breed, are in the Witch's Cell. This is where the Greendale Thirteen were kept imprisoned."

Sabrina got to her feet, Quentin's words echoing in her mind. "What the hell is this, Prudence?"

"This, _half-breed_, is the Harrowing," the witch replied, as she and her goons surrounded Sabrina, and began to slowly circle her, like sharks hungering for a scent of blood. "It is an old and sacred witch tradition, here at the Academy. If you are to be worthy of treading these unhallowed halls, then you have to be able to endure what those earliest Greendale witches endured. Thirteen survived long enough to make it to the noose, but so very many others perished, right here in this room."

"This place," Agatha, an Asian girl with thin features whispered, "it winnowed them."

"They were allowed no sunlight, no water, no food, and no dignity," Prudence continued. "As they wallowed in their own filth and excrement, most witches went mad and cut their own throats. Either that, or they simply bashed their own heads against the walls. But, even then, their torment has not ended, for they haunt this place still."

They stopped circling around Sabrina. 'They'll show you terrible things in the dark, these restless spirits. Things that will make you beg for the release of insanity."

She then chuckled. "But, what am I saying? You're a Spellman, the daughter of a High Priest. You're not scared of the dark, or what it hides. As such, you can take it, right?"

Sabrina wanted to do nothing more than wipe that psychotic smirk off of Prudence's face, but, she was outnumbered. So, all she could do was just keep eye contact as Prudence, Agatha, and Dorcas slithered out of the room, and slamming shut the heavy iron-and-oak door.

Still, as the darkness folded in around her, Sabrina's composure slipped away, and she began to bang on the door. "No! Please! Let me out of this!"

The only response she got was mocking laughter.

The moment they left, Sabrina began to hear noises.

Growls, grunts, whispers, liquid dripping and dropping onto the stone floor.

Sabrina felt frightened, despite herself. She bang to pace around the small room, around the small candle that the Weird Sisters had left her.

She would not break. She would not break. She would not break. She would not break. She would not break.

She would not break, how long had it been, she would not break, why were they doing this did they really hate her that much was she really alone in here how long had it been...

"Help!" she cried out again.

The only answers were the dripping of water, the rustling of wings, and the droning of night insects.

Slowly, she approached the small candle. She tried to call forth the reinforcement thing that she had learned, but her mind was too aflutter at the moment.

It was so dark.

So much noise.

Was she alone in here?

Then...

Something wrapped itself around her leg!

Sabrina screamed!

* * *

_Spellman House_

The little beast lifted his head up, and jumped off the bed, quick as a flash.

* * *

_Kinkle House_

With a strangled gasp, Harvey shot up in bed, his eyes wide and... yellow, like a wolf's.

Then, they rolled back up in his head, and he collapsed backward...

* * *

_The Next morning, _

_Saturday, November 8th, _

_Academy of Unseen Arts_

Prudence almost felt excited, to see the results of the harrowing. Hopefully, the half-breed had been broken.

With a good bit of anticipation, she and her sisters opened the door. What she saw did not disappoint; there was the half-breed, crouched and hugging itself, muttering incoherently all the while as it rocked back and forth.

"Well, sisters," Prudence declared. "It looks like the cell has claimed another victim. Look at it. The poor thing's completely lost its mind."

"It's gibbering like a loon," Agatha said with disdain. "It's pathetic."

"I don't know," Dorcas argued. "I thing it sounds rather pretty, like... waves on a beach."

Suddenly, the half-breed stood up, and turned to face them, a decidedly sane look in its mongrel eyes. "Actually, it wasn't all that bad in the end," it said.

As Prudence and her sisters looked upon the half-breed with confusion, it gestured up to its shoulder, and upon it hopped a dog... cat... thing that was now sitting perched at attention. The creature hissed at Prudence. "This is Salem, by the way," the half-breed said. "He protects and comforts me, wherever I am. He is a very clever cat. Fun fact, when he's in goblin form, there is no crack too small for him to slip through.

A smug grin then plastered itself on the half-breed's face. "Ta-ta, girls."

As it and the thing's familiar walked on past, Prudence had to restrain herself from firing off a spell at the mongrel. So the cell had failed. There were still two more parts of the harrowing.

By all the glories of Hell, Prudence would break this mongrel half-breed.

And when it was broken, then Prudence would have fun...

* * *

_Later_

The academy had a few phone booths, which its students could use to call friends and family. After what she had been through last night, there was only one person that she could think of to call.

_"Hey,"_ came Harvey's tired voice over the phone. _"You're up early."_

"I didn't ever go to sleep, Harvey," Sabrina said. "Though, form the sound of it, neither did you."

_"Yeah, just... more dreams. But why did you get no sleep? Did something happen?"_

Sabrina sighed. "Let's just say that I'm not exactly welcome at this school. To be honest, I really hate it here."

He was silent for a moment. _"What happened? Should I come and get you? I can leave right now if you want me to."_

Despite how she felt, Sabrina could not help the smile that crept onto her face. "That's very sweet of you, but... I don't think that will be possible. Besides, for better or for worse, I have to see this thing through."

_"Okay. Whatever you say. Just... let me know what I can do to help, alright?"_

"Don't worry. This is helping."

"_What is?"_

Sabrina shrugged. "Just... hearing your voice."

She heard him chuckle. "_Really? Well, it's not even my sexy voice."_

Sabrina chuckled as well. "Keep talking, Harvey Kinkle. Just... keep talking."

She could feel his smile, full of love. _"As you wish, Sabrina Spellman. As you wish."_

* * *

_Later_

After an oddly refreshing shower, Sabrina headed back to the dorms. At least now with Salem, things would be-

She stopped dead in her tracks.

When she had left for the showers, Salem had been lounging on her bed atop her pajamas. Now, he was gone, and so were the pajamas.

She looked about, but she could not see him. "Hey," she called out. "Has anyone seen..."

Then, she caught sight of the Weird Sisters, laughing about something. She connected the dots, and a rage began to grow in her head. "Aright. Give them back, _now."_

The Weird sisters looked at her like she was an ant. Prudence arched an eyebrow along with a mocking grin. "Why, whatever are you talking about?"

The rage kept growing. "My cat. Who I left, right there, sitting on my pajamas."

"What cat?" Agatha asked.

"What pajamas?" Dorcas enquired.

The rage grew some more, as Sabrina walked towards them, and towards the chest that Prudence was currently sitting on. "They were on my bed, and now they're both gone."

Prudence mockingly gasped in surprise as she stepped aside to let Sabrina look in her chest. "They are? Oh, dear."

She rifled through the chest, tossing out dresses and underwear and other things. They were not there, with a slam of the lid, she righted herself, and turned to face Prudence. "I know you took them, so stop playing dumb, and fess up, Prudence!"

"If that's the case, then how bad do you want them," Prudence asked snidely.

Sabrina had had a long, sleepless night. That, coupled with the fact that, since her arrival, the bitch in front of her had done nothing except make her time here a living hell, as well as the fact that she hated everything about this school... well, it was perfectly understandable why Sabrina's fist suddenly smashed into Prudence's face, like the sound of thunder.

As Prudence reeled from the blow, Sabrina surged forward like a tidal wave, only for the now snarling Prudence to leap at her, her hands clawing for her throat. Meanwhile, all the other girls began to chant "Fight, fight, fight!"

Then, before more blows could be exchanged, a voice broke through the bloodlust in Sabrina's vision. "MS. SPELLMAN!"

Everyone looked up towards the entrance to the dorms. Standing there, with a large pet carrier, was Father Blackwood, who looked upon the scene before him with a raised eyebrow of surprise and disdain.

He then sighed, as if exasperated by what he saw before him. "Get dressed at once, and then, to my office, if you would be so kind."

* * *

_This is beyond humiliating_, Salem groused from within the pet carrier.

Sabrina ignored him, and did her best to focus on Father Blackwood through the extremely low light of his dark office, and not on how the knuckles on her right hand were stinging form when she had punched Prudence in the eye. Though, if she were being honest, it had felt damned good.

"Firstly, Ms. Spellman," Father Blackwood began, "Familiars are no permitted on the academy grounds. Salem here will have to return home with Zelda."

_Sorry, pretty girl, _Salem said.

Father Blackwood then looked right at Sabrina. "Secondly, and I feel it quite vital that I ask this, are you at all happy here, Sabrina?"

Before she could answer, Aunt Zelda, who had arrived here several minutes ago, spoke up. "But of course she is, Faustus."

"Really? Because, in my humble opinion, picking fights with other students, complaining about your class schedule... these are not indicative of contentment."

Aunt Zelda looked at Sabrina in confusion as the last thing was mentioned. "What's this now?"

Sabrina turned to look at her aunt. "I'm sorry, but I didn't come here to major in herbalism, Aunt Zelda, or in Latin, for that matter."

Her aunt nodded in understanding. "Oh, but of course you didn't, my dear." She then turned to Father Blackwood and leaned forward. "Honestly, Faustus, if that is what you've got her studying, then it's really no wonder that the girl's feeling restless. She's not being challenged."

"I know. I told Father Blackwood that I wanted to study conjuring. You know, like my father."

Father Blackwood shook his head. "Zelda, I am just being realistic. I cannot, in good conscience, put her in conjuring without being sure that she is absolutely ready. It would not be safe, either for her or for her classmates."

"Then test her," Aunt Zelda said. "Let her prove that she is more than capable."

Sabrina found herself nodding with that.

Seeing that he was outnumbered, Father Blackwood sighed, and then opened one of the drawers on his desk. From it, he withdrew a ring of keys. Then, he stood up, and walked over to one of the cabinets in his office, opened the door, and withdrew form the cabinet a very odd-looking object; it looked like a dodecahedron, if Sabrina remembered her geometry correctly. For some reason, the sight of it made Aunt Zelda take a sharp intake of breath.

But still... what was that? "What is it?" Sabrina asked.

Aunt Zelda was the one to answer that. "If I'm not mistaken, I believe that is an Acheron configuration. It's a type of arcane puzzle."

"A distinct variation on it, yes," Father Blackwood said. "But, aside from just being a puzzle, what this is a test of both mental and actual dexterity..." As he trailed off, Father Blackwood seemed to be enthralled by the thing in his hands.

Then, he seemed to collect himself, swallowed, and promptly handed it to Sabrina. "You wished to be tested, yes? Very well. If you can solve this configuration, then I will allow you to join conjuring class, with all your prerequisites waived."

Aunt Zelda gave a derisive chuckle. "Either that, or go mad trying."

"Ordinarily, but, I am quite certain that won't happen with your niece, Zelda," Father Blackwood replied. "Only those lacking in mental fortitude can fall prey to the intricacies of the Acheron's fascinations."

Aunt Zelda promptly nodded in agreement. "Quite right, Faustus. Sabrina will prove herself to truly be her father's daughter."

The declaration made Father Blackwood's eyebrow raise in amusement. "it seems that I had forgotten just how fiercely maternal you could be, Zelda. But, on a different note, there is a personal matter that I'd like to discuss with you in private, if your niece would be so kind as to excuse us."

"But of course she will, " Aunt Zelda said.

Taking that as her cue, Sabrina stood up to leave. As she did, Aunt Zelda called out a last time. "And Sabrina? Try to behave this time?"

"Don't worry, Aunt Zelda, I will. Even though I am still missing my pajamas."

Father Blackwood seemed to decide to remain quiet on that matter, as Sabrina exited the office...

* * *

Decide to get some fresh air as she examined the puzzle, Sabrina headed out to the school's front steps. To her slight surprise, she found Rey there, going away on his pipe. At the sound of the door closing behind her, he looked up and gave a grin. "Well, well, we meet again, girlie."

"Hi there," she said. "Where's your little shadow?"

"Quentin's off elsewhere. Needed a bit of alone time. Misses 'is family, 'e does. But, tha's not wha' we should be talkin' aboot right now," he replied.

His grin then grew wider. "So's word on th' vine is that ye got in tae a wee bit of a scrap with Prudence. Socked in the eye and all. Have to say, that puts ya several notches 'igher in my book now."

Sabrina felt a bit embarrassed. "I did, but, in my defense, she and her goons did lock me in a cell."

His grin fell away at that, replaced by a frown. "Let me bloody guess... 'arrowing?"

At her nod, Rey shook his head in what seemed to be resigned exasperation, and then lightly hit the stone railings of the stairs. "Those fucking cunts. The bloody bitch should know better. Prudence, that fucking cunt, she should know fucking better."

Sabrina arched her eye at the explosion of profanity. "You really seem to like that word."

He gave her a blank look. "Know any better way to describe tha' bitch and 'er 'anger-ons?"

She had to concede that point. Though the way he seemed to go on about her... "You really seem to hate her... did you two used to date or something?"

He let out a deprecating chuckle, and slowly nodded. "Ja, ja we did. Thankfully for only a bloody brief period of time, I 'ad the bloody 'onor of dating the sisters."

It took a moment for Sabrina's brain to register the last part of Rey's sentence. "Wait... you dated all three of them? At once?"

He slowly nodded again. "Are you really surprised? They be a package deal. I swear, those three canae take a shit without the other two being there to wipe their arse."

Sabrina did her best not to picture that image. "So... what exactly happened?"

He looked away for a second, clearly uncomfortable with the memories that question brought up. "'Twas a great deal of tings... But, what really killed it? They got a friend o' mine killed."

"...Oh. I'm sorry."

He waved it off. "Ach, tis mostly in th' past now. So, now days, we hate the oter wit a blazin' passion. What more can be said?"

His eyes then zeroed in on the puzzle box in her hand. "Now, if ya don't mind a changin' o' the subject... wha' in th' 'ell are ya doin' wi' an Acheron Configuration?"

A bit taken aback by the change in pace of the conversation, Sabrina none-the-less answered him. "This? Well, Blackwood gave it to me. He says that as soon as I can solve it, he'll let me take conjuring classes."

Rey nodded and chuckled. "Did he now?"

Sabrian felt a bit offended by his laughter. "What's so funny?"

He kept chuckling for a moment. "If tha's yer task, girlie, then I tink the old guv has it in fer ya."

"What? Why would you say that?"

Rey pointed his pipe at the Acheron Configuration in her hands. "Tha' there particular configuration? It's yer old man's handiwork."

Sabrina had not been expecting that and looked back down at the puzzle in wonder. "Wait. Are you saying that my father built this?"

"Indeed. Ole Blackwood's been trying his damndest ta solve this little beauty for the past twenty years," Rey explained, as he gently took the configuration from her hands to peer at it. My friend tried it for three. Poor bugger had to give up."

"Really? Did he say why?"

Rey smirked. "_She _tole me tha' th' thing's somthin' like a kaleidoscope. Bloody thin' can be addictive to look at. The longer ye stare at it, the harder it gets to solve. My friend, she almost went mad."

Sabrina gave a sardonic smile as Rey handed it back to her. "Good to know."

He shook his head. "Try not ta take this the wrong way when I say this girlie, but yer not going to be able to solve tha' blasted thin'."

Sabrina shook her head. She would not be deterred from this. Then, an idea came to her. "If my father made this, then, maybe he wrote about it in his journals?"

Rey shrugged. "Praps. Couldn't tell ya fer certain though. Never looked at them myself. 'Sides, his journals. Those 'tings are guarded more closely in the Library than a dragon's 'oard, and you can bet diamonds ta dust balls that' a first-year lyke yourself won't be let in ta see them."

Sabrina nodded, but still undeterred. "Well, this is something that I need to do. Think you might be able to sneak me into the Library, so I can access the journals? Or even just get the journals?"

A conspiratorial, almost predatory, grin stretched across his lips. "Ah, a wee bit of rule-bending, aye? Count me in, girlie."

He extended his hand, and she shook it. "Bloody grand. Th' compact's made. Give me a bit o' time, and I'll see what I can do ta get them. Sound good, girlie?"

Sabrina thought that it sounded great. So, with that agreement, she set off.

* * *

_Meanwhile, at Cerberus' Books_

When Harvey had gotten the call form Roz asking him to meet her at Dr. Cerberus', he had noted the slight trepidation in her voice, but still came. After all, they were friends, right? He just hoped everything was all right.

So, within the hour, here he was. During the drive into town, he had noted that Mr. Hinzelmann was already starting work on his famous Christmas displays.

So, here he was, at Dr. Cerberus's, enjoying a nice slice of cherry pie and an icy mocha.

"Harvey."

At the sound of his name, Harvey looked up to see Roz approaching him, a worried look on her face. She smelled odd. "Uh, hey Roz. What's up? Everything alright? How was Susie's?"

Roz seemed to fidget for a moment. "Um... listen, did you ever meet Susie's uncle Jesse?"

Harvey felt a bit confused by the question as he swallowed another forkful of pie. "Uh... I think so. Seemed like a nice enough guy. But, didn't he move away from here a while back?"

She shook her head. "No. He's actually still living with them down at the farm. But, listen, he's, like, really sick. Susie said that he saw something down in the mines and that it..."

At the mention of that, Harvey almost choked on his pie but managed to get it down. He then stood up. "Wait, wait. You're sure?"

* * *

_Meanwhile, Spellman Mortuary_

They had been given another body today. Thankfully, this one had not been a murder. He had simply died of a coronary. At least the soft jazz he had chosen for the day had helped. He was never fond of doing coronaries.

As Ambrose began to clean up, the mortuary's phone rang. With a sigh, he headed over to it, stripped of his gloves, turned off the music, and then held the receiver up to his ear. "Spellman Sister's Mortuary, how may we be of service?" he asked, almost automatically.

When there was no answer at first, he got a bit confused. "Hello?"

Then a male voice answered. _It sounded a bit familiar, but he just could not place it. "Is Ambrose available?"_

Did someone want to talk to him? "Speaking. May I ask who's calling?"

He found himself pleasantly surprised by the reply. _"It's Luke. Ah man, don't tell me you already forgot about me?"_

Ambrose chuckled. "Not to worry, mate. Of course, I remember you, yeah. Any reason as to this call?"

_Later_

As Ambrose nursed the mason jar of Hilda's homemade berry juice, he decided to broach the subject on his mind. "I've met someone, Auntie."

Hilda looked up from the fruit that she was chopping. "Hmmm? What's that, dear?"

Ambrose pushed on. "He's... he's asked me if I would like to go on a date with him."

"Oh," was her reply, before awkwardly returning to her chopping.

Right, now for the final plunge. "So... I was planning to astral project to the coffee shop, with your help of course."

She was silent for an entire minute. "That's very risky. Also, you wouldn't be able to actually touch him, love. You do know that, right?"

Ambrose nodded as he made an aimless gesture. "I know that I do, but, I figured that maybe we could... I don't know... just see each other. Have a nice conversation, face to face. I really like him, Auntie."

Hilda let out a heavy sigh, set down her knife, and ambled over to sit down next to him at the table. "I understand that hon', I do. But, it's just... it's just too dangerous, on a variety of levels."

Ambrose looked at her in askance. "Really? But Aunt Zee, she projects all the time. She never seems worse for wear. Besides, with you guarding my body, then I'll be completely and perfectly safe."

Hilda shook her head. "Listen to me, Ambrose. Only the dead are permitted to traverse the astral plane. If you do this and stay out there for too long, then you find yourself attracting the attention of the psychopomps. If that happened, then, no matter what happens, once they find you, they will assume that you are dead, and they will carry you off to the great beyond, despite how hard you may struggle."

She gripped a tight fist. "Believe me... those little blighters may look sweet and cute little sparrows, but in truth? They are vicious and spiteful little monsters... much like sisters, in fact."

She let loose a shaky, rattling breath, as tears formed at the corners of her eyes.

Ambrose raised his hand and opened his mouth... then closed it,,, then opened it, and then closed it again.

Finally, he took a proverbial step. "Look... the first sign of a psychopomp, and I'm straight out of there." As she spoke, he made an unholy sign. "Swear on Satan's claw."

Hilda adamantly shook her head. "Nope. Can't do it."

At that moment, Ambrose knew better than to argue.

Hilda sighed. "Besides, even discounting the psychopomps, there's also Zelda-"

"Oh my. I thought my ears were burning."

Ambrose and Hilda jumped in their seats a bit as they both turned, and looked to see Zelda entering the kitchen, dressed to nothing less than the nines. She lanced them each with a hard and even stare. "So, what exactly are you two little things plotting?"

"What? No, no, we're not, we're just-" Hilda stuttered.

"-Just wondering why you're going, looking so smart?" Ambrose finished. Hopefully, that would work.

"Yes, so smart," Hilda parroted.

The smile on Zelda's face was quite smug. "Well, as it happens, I've been invited to the High Priest's house to sup."

Hilda looked confused. Ambrose felt the same. "Any particular reason as to why, if I may inquire?" Hilda asked.

"No, you may not. Also, shut up, Hilda," Zelda retorted.

Despite themselves, Ambrose and Hilda both let out a little chuckle. Zelda simply scoffed. "Lest you forget, my dear sister, you are persona non grata. Dinner with the High Priest is a grand and tremendous honor. One that you'll never get to enjoy again."

As the smile dripped off of Hilda's face, Zelda picked up a strawberry. "So, I'm afraid that you two miscreants will have to fend for yourselves tonight. Ta-ta."

With a wave, she popped the strawberry into her mouth and headed off.

Ambrose could see Hilda's eye start to twitch.

She then turned to look at him, a determined glint in her twitching eye. "We're going to need candles, the exact address of the coffee shop, and a map."

Ambrose clapped his hands together lightly in triumph and excitement. Yes!

"In fact," Hilda continued, "We'll do it in the embalming room."

At that, the two got up and got to work.

* * *

_Later, Father Blackwood's office, Night_

As he idly perused the _Sanguine Codex_, Faustus felt a presence at his door.

Without bothering to look up, he called out. "You may enter, Prudence."

The young witch did as she was bid, carrying with her a large birdcage, in which what looked to be the hybrid of a crow and a raven. However, instead of flapping about or cawing, all it did was sullenly stare out from its prison.

Prudence held it up as she set it on the small table by his desk. "I found this creature spying on us in the girl's showers. It's clearly someone's familiar, but do you have any idea whose?"

Faustus looked up from his readings and stared at the bird, who simply stared back at him. He let loose a tired sigh. "Indeed I do. Just leave it with me. I'll see that it's dealt with. Be sure to close the doors on your way out."

With a respectful nod, Prudence exited the room, closing the doors as she did so. Faustus went back to his readings. Once he felt Prudence leave earshot, he spoke. "I had no idea that you or your creature held such voyeuristic tendencies. So, shall I wring its neck, or should I just release it into your care, so that the pair of you may vacate the premises and my presence?"

From the shadows emerged the demoness, still cloaked in the flesh of the woman that she had slain. "Stolas doesn't like being caged," she purred. "It makes him feel antsy."

"Then perhaps you should do your best to keep your little pet out of my academy."

"Need I remind you that the Dark Lord asked me to watch over Sabrina? Where that little half-breed goes, I follow."

He shook his head at her statement. "Not this weekend, you don't. The Academy is my purview, my domain. But, if you're feeling bored, then why not shift your focus?"

She scowled at him. "I have no need for you to tell me my business, little Warlock."

He shrugged off the threat behind her words. "Suit yourself, my lady. I'm just merely pointing out that with Sabrina away, her little chums will be vulnerable. Her aunties as well. In fact, all I was really suggesting was that you might have some fun, _Ms. Wardwell._"

The demoness said nothing, and the two merely exchanged a knowing look. Internally, Faustus gleaned, content that the Devil's little minion had taken his advice to heart.

By the Most High, she was almost beyond infuriating.

* * *

_Later,_

_Spellman Mortuary,_

_Embalming room,_

_That evening._

Ambrose felt a bit of nervous excitement coursing through his veins.

The candles were all lit and set in the correct formation, and Hilda had even been kind enough to set down some comfortable blankets on the embalming table.

"All right,' Hilda murmured to herself as she did another last-minute check. "Right-o."

As Ambrose laid back, whilst dressed in his best jacket, shirt, pants, and shoes, Hilda bustled up to him. "Now remember, you've got twenty minutes."

"Thirty," he retorted.

"_Twenty," _she firmly declared. "Then, I'm pulling you back."

Seeing as that was the best he was going to get, Ambrose nodded to her. Then, after taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, arranged his hands into the proper sign, and began to chant.

_Vola anima per aeterna._

_Vola anima per aeterna._

_Vola anima per aeterna._

_Vola anima per aeterna._

As he continued to chant the line over and over again, Ambrose could feel himself growing lighter... and lighter... and lighter... and also a bit... cold.

Then, feeling, and sound, and taste, and touch, and smells, all of them began to slowly, slowly, slowly fade away.

He blinked.

The next thing he knew, he was sitting in the coffee shop that Connor had told him about.

It was an odd thing, astral projection. You know you are there, you can technically interact with what's around you, but, at the same time, you can't feel or actually touch or move anything. At best, all you can do is just listen, speak, and see. Except for the cold. You always felt so very, _very_ cold.

_"Ambrose?" _he heard Hilda whisper in the back of his mind.

* * *

_Meanwhile, back at the Spellman house_

All of a sudden, the doorbell rang, making Hilda look up in surprise from Ambrose's now still and comatose body.

Oh, bloody hell. Now? Really?!

As the doorbell rang again, Hilda's professionalism won out, and reluctantly, she got up to answer it. Hopefully, it wouldn't take too long.

There was a reason why she had been adamant about the twenty-minute limit.

The person at the door was a tall woman who seemed to have a predilection for the color black; black raincoat, black boots, black sunglasses, black hair.

Hilda was a witch from a family of witches and had formerly been a member of the church of Satan. Even then, she had not seen this much black.

"May I come in?" the woman asked in a husky voice.

"Uh, um, sure." Hilda stammered out, as she let the woman in, who proceeded to glance about at the house's interior. "We, uh, we don't normally take in walk-ins. It's just not, uh, well, it's not that kind of... kind of business."

Hilda then took a deep breath. "Right, sorry. Let me try again, can I help you, Miss?"

The woman glanced over her. "Hmm? Oh, yes, I'm afraid that you can." Her voice began to tremble a bit as she held a folded hanky up to her mouth and nose "I... I'd like to make some funeral arrangements."

Oh. Oh, dear. 'W-w-well, right. Well, if you'd like to take a seat, maybe, over there, in the office? There's a lovely catalog full of things and options that you can have a little look through."

The woman arched an eyebrow. "Is... is everything alright?"

"What? ooh, yes, sure, everything's fine. I just, uh, I have to pop down to the, um... I'll just be ten minutes!"

* * *

As the fat little witch scurried off, Lilith glanced about and then headed up the stairs.

Time to begin some mischief.

* * *

_Meanwhile, Doctor Cerberus'_

Ambrose 'sat', waiting, and looking about the coffee shop. It looked like a nice place, this little coffee shop. Then, he looked up, to see Luke striding in. That put a smile on Ambrose's face all right, one that was mirrored by Luke.

"Hey there," Luke said, as he approached the table.

"Hi," Ambrose replied.

Luke took a seat. "So," he began, as he got comfortable. "Do you, uh, do you come here a lot?"

Ambrose shook his head. "Not a lot, no. In fact, I would most definitely say that I don't come here a lot, at all."

Despite how idiotic that had sounded, Luke just chuckled. "Yeah, well, I guess it is pretty kitschy." He then looked back at Ambrose. "So, then, what are your usual haunts?"

"I, uh..." Out of the corner of his eye, Ambrose watched as a tiny white sparrow with a red belly settled down on the windowsill outside, and proceeded to stare at him with beady black eyes. "Uh... I'm more of a homebody if I'm being completely honest. How about you?"

It was just one. How much damage could one do?

* * *

_Meanwhile, Spellman Mortuary_

As fast as she could, Hilda scurried back towards the embalming room. "Don't be dead, don't be dead, don't be dead, don't be dead..."

As she approached his comatose body, Hilda looked him over "Okay, okay." She then leaned in. "Ambrose? Can you hear me, love? Can you-"

The sound of fluttering wings stopped her cold. Ever so slowly, she looked up hoping against hope that she would not see what she knew she was probably about to see. But, alas, fate, as always, was not that kind to her.

Perched almost innocuously upon the emergency eye rinse sink was what looked like a small, white sparrow.

Oh, bugger.

With renewed fear, she started shaking Ambrose's body. "Hurry up lad," she whispered urgently. "Please, hurry up, come on."

* * *

Lilith idly perused through the house. She had to admit, it looked... well lived in. Then, she found the first of what she was looking for...

The sister's bedroom.

* * *

_Doctor Cerberus'_

"So, I spoke to Connor's father yesterday," Ambrose said, as he and Luke continued to chat. "That was just a bit of paperwork that he had to finish up. The police have officially written off Connor's death as a freak animal attack, even though there was a single, clean severance across his neck. It's just... weird."

Luke sighed. "You know, Ambrose, not to sound too harsh, but I didn't call you so that we could talk about Connor. I just called to get to know you better."

Oh. Right. Silly Ambrose. "Right, right, of course. Sorry. Afraid I'm a bit out of practice with this sort of thing," Ambrose chuckled.

Luke waved it off. "It's fine. So... what's the craziest thing you've ever done?"

...

...

...Wow. That was unexpected.

Ambrose chuckled nervously again. "Wow. You're just... you just getting right into the thick of it, huh?"

"Yeah," Luke replied, as he took a sip of his coffee drink. "Right to the meat of it."

Ambrose mentally reviewed all the wild and crazy things he had done over his life. Which to brag about? Would any of it scare Luke off? What should he say?

Bugger it all. Best just to jump straight in it.

Ambrose took a deep breath and then leaned in, conspiratorially. "Right. So, I'm not proud of it, but... I was put on indefinite house arrest for attempting to blow up the Vatican."

Almost immediately, Luke began to laugh, as if it were just a joke. Ambrose really wished that it was just a joke. Upon seeing the serious expression on Ambrose's face, Luke stopped laughing, the expression replaced by one of shocked surprise. "But- wait- Woah... are you actually serious?"

As he nodded, Ambrose noted another psychopomp.

That made two.

* * *

Silent as a breeze, Lilith collected what she needed.

Hair from their brushes.

Toenail and fingernail clippings.

Pieces from their dresses.

Next was the girl's room, and the interior was disgustingly cute, but Lilith could tell that, despite it, the little half-breed at least had a modicum of taste.

She stopped by the large mirror that hung on the wall.

Dipping her finger into her mouth, Lilith used the now-wet appendage to trace all around the rim of the mirror three times.

* * *

Outside the house, unbeknownst to the demoness, the two large ravens watched her.

_The boss is really gonna want ta know 'bout this_, said the white one.

* * *

_Meanwhile, at the Academy of Unseen Arts_

Under her covers, Sabrina fiddled and picked at the Acheron Configuration.

Rey had not been wrong. This thing was tricky and addictive. And Father Blackwood had been working on this for twenty years?!

Suddenly, her blanket and sheets were yanked off of her, revealing the grins of the Weird Sisters.

"Oh shit," Sabrina gasped out.

"Oh shit indeed," replied Prudence, with a grin that looked capable of consuming the fare-mentioned shit.

Sabrina groaned in both fear and exasperation. "Come on guys, can't you just leave me alone? We really have no reason to hate each other."

"That's where you're wrong, half-breed," Prudence retorted. "We have _plenty _of reasons to hate you. Your father betrayed his own kind to marry a _mortal_. Not to mention the fact that you'll betray us the first chance you get. Though, that's only _if _you survive the Harrowing."

Sabrina could not keep the confusion off her face, even as the fear returned. "Wh- what? But, I already did survive that. Last night."

Prudence shook her head as if Sabrina were just a simple child that had said something entertainingly wrong. "Oh no, half-breed. _That_ had only been the beginning."

As Agatha and Dorcas slowly reached for her, Sabrina backed up as far as she could against the headboard of her bed. "I'll scream," she said.

Prudence scoffed. "Do you honestly think that anyone here will help you? They hate you just as much as we do. But, still, go ahead and scream as much as you like. Only then, it will be twenty girls harrowing you, instead of just three. Now, let's get her out of those troublesome clothes."

As they grabbed at her, Sabrina realized that it was not a suggestion, and did her best to struggle, even as they swiftly overpowered her...

* * *

Zelda entered her house, her belly full of good food. Faustus had been rather charming, though, oddly enough, he had eaten very little. Still, Zelda had enjoyed herself and was more than open to another such dinner.

As she entered, her eyes alit upon the unfamiliar sight of an equally unfamiliar woman casually walking down the stairs.

"Excuse me," Zelda called out. "But, may I help you?"

"Oh, so sorry," the strange woman said with an embarrassed giggle. "I was just looking for the powder room, and that oh-so-charming little English lady that told me to just sit and wait has been gone for such a long time-"

"Right," Zelda interrupted, her mind already alit with irritation towards her sister. "And just who might you be?"

The unfamiliar woman gave a slight incline of her head. "Oh, where are my manners? I'm Ms. Wardwell. I'm one of Sabrina's teachers, but, well... I came here to make some funeral arrangements."

"...I see. And the woman you spoke to? Where exactly did she go?"

Ms. Wardwell seemed to think about it for a moment. "If I'm not mistaken, I believe that it was the basement."

A tight smile knifed its way across Zelda's lips. Oh yes, she and her stupid little sister would have words.

The woman seemed to get the unspoken message. "Right then... I'll just be on my way then."

As Zelda closed the door behind the teacher, she let loose a groan of exasperation, her fingers already itching to get wrap themselves around Hilda's doughy neck. "Oh sister, what game are you playing at now?"

Hell and Demons below, but she really needed a cigar.

* * *

_Doctor Cerberus'_

Five.

There were now five little psychopomps, all perched in a row, and all looking right at Ambrose.

Even in the cold of astral projection, he felt cold.

"You okay, Ambrose?" Luke inquired. "You look a little nervous."

Ambrose's eyes were darting back and forth and he was somehow sweating, despite being in astral form. "What, me, nervous?" he stammered. "How- how do you mean? What? Do I really seem nervous?"

"Well," Luke slowly began, his smile still on his lips. 'You haven't touched your drink once, and you keep looking out that window, almost as if you're expecting someone else to just waltz right in."

Ambrose could feel more on the way. Oh heaven. "I'm sorry. I really thought that I had more time. I have to go now, Luke."

Luke's handsome face became confused. 'What?"

Ambrose's projection hastily got to his feet, even though he was only a projection. "I'm, I'm really sorry, Luke. This - this was a mistake."

Luke got to his feet after him. "Wait. Ambrose, wait."

* * *

_Spellman Mortuary,_

_Embalming room_

"Ambrose," Hilda said over and over again, as she kept shaking his unmoving form.

Then, just when things could not get anywise, she heard her sister's voice, fro upstairs. "Hilda? Where are you? And where is Ambrose?!"

As her sister entered the room, all Hilda could do was just try and smile. "Oh, hello Zelda. Have a nice night?"

The moment Zelda clapped eyes on Ambrose, her eyes went wide, and she immediately began knocking over the candles with a screeching exclamation of "DEAR SATAN!"

* * *

_Doctor Cerberus's_

One moment before he got to the door, Ambrose felt a burst of sub-zero-level cold as it lanced its way through all his nerves, and then... darkness.

* * *

_Spellman Mortuary_

_Embalming room_

With the unholy offspring of a gasp, choke, and scream tearing its way past his lips, Ambrose woke up flailing on the table.

As Hilda held out a steadying hand, and he took in great, greedy gulps of air, Zelda (who Ambrose noted out of the corner of his eye) had an enraged expression on her face. "Have the pair of you both taken complete and utter leave of what few senses you possess!?"

Her angry eyes bored large and burning holes through Ambrose's entire being. "Astral projection? Of all the stupid, reckless, asinine things that you could possibly do, that was what you chose!? Was stabbing yourself in the eyes not an option, you stupid boy!?"

"Excuse me, but it was all well in hand," Hilda protested.

Zelda jabbed a finger into Hilda's face. "You don't get to speak right now sister. It's bad enough that you left a client upstairs, which is simply beyond unprofessional for you. And as for you, Ambrose, my dear little felon..."

Oh crap, here it came.

Zelda marched up and grabbed him by his jaw and cheeks in a vice-like grip. "You. Are. HOUSEBOUND! You are strictly prohibited from leaving the grounds of our property, whether it be in body, or in spirit! Am I understood?"

As best he could in her grip, Ambrose nodded.

As Zelda released his jaw and stormed away, Ambrose massaged his jaw, and, despite themselves, he and Hilda jsut giggled at the absurdity of it all.

Bloody hell, but what a night.

What a rush.

* * *

_Meanwhile_

_The forest outside the Academy of Unseen Arts_

_Night Two of the Harrowing_

Though a part of her was just simply afraid, another part of Sabrina's mind just found all of this to be utterly humiliating, being made to walk naked and barefoot through the woods.

Whenever she faltered, one of the Weird sisters either pushed her forward or slapped her on the butt or back like she was some kind of horse.

The brisk night air also did not help much.

"A little bit of history for you to digest, half-breed," said Prudence. "This is the same path that the Greendale Thirteen, who had survived imprisonment and torture, took when they were being led to the noose."

"They kept their eyes straight ahead," Agatha continued. "Straight ahead and fixed on the path"

"Mortals surrounded them on either side," Dorcas added. "And, if any witch dared to lift their eyes to meet a mortal's gaze..."

"They were stoned to death on the spot," Prudence concluded, as it seemed that they had arrived.

In the daylight, it would have looked like any old tree, but at night? Something about it just seemed, for lack of a better term... _evil_.

As they all pulled to a stop, Agatha and Dorcas began to idly play with her hair and ran their fingers up and down her bare flesh. Agatha even briefly groped at one of Sabrina's breasts, which hurt. However, Sabrina's eyes were stuck on the sight of the tree. "What... what do I do now?" she whimpered.

"You do exactly what the original Thirteen did," Prudence answered. "You will stand there, in the wet cold night. Exposed, and bare, and defenseless."

"Without rest," said Agatha.

"And no matter what you may hear, you do not turn around," Prudence finished.

Dorcas slapped Sabrina's rear one more time, and, just like before, it hurt. "For... for how long?" Sabrina asked.

"Until dawn," Agatha answered.

"And... if I turn around... what happens?"

She could feel Prudence's eyes boring into her exposed back.

But then there was no answer. A moment later, Sabrina felt and knew that she was alone.

A breeze harshly caressed her flesh.

It was cold.

There came the sound of leaves being crunched underfoot. Then, from what seemed right next to her ear, she hard the sound of a monster's deep-throated growling. It sounded at once near her ear, and far away. It was soon accompanied by the sound of joints popping and snapping, and teeth-gnashing against one another.

She did not turn around.

It got closer. Then, she began to hear voices.

" 'Brina? Help me. These girls-"

She did not turn around. "You're not really Harvey."

She gripped her fists tight. "What. C'mon, of course, it's me, Sabrina. Please. Please, just turn around."

The growl in her ear grew louder.

The night grew colder, and goose pimples began to trek all over.

She did not turn around.

"Oh god!" the voice that was not Harvey cried out. "Please. Please, NO!"

The sounds of tearing flesh echoed among screams.

Despite herself, a tear trekked down her cheek.

She... She did not turn around.

"Sabrina?"

No. It was not real.

"It's me. It's your mother."

It was not real.

"No. You're not them. You're just a thing. Just a demon or something, but... you are not my mother."

"Please. Let me just look at you. Let me look at your beautiful face. I want to see how much you've grown, my sweet child. Just once, Sa**brina. Just once."**

She closed her eyes, even as she shed more tears. The night grew colder.

She...

... She did not turn around. 'Go away!" she declared, her fists clenched so tightly she could feel blood beneath her fingernails, a bit of warmth against the night.

The growling grew louder, and soon, her mother screamed as well.

She...

...

... did not turn around!

"Now, now Sabrina." It felt like her heart would stop. "That is no way to speak to your mother. Turn around and apologize."

She wanted to turn around. Was there any blood left in her fists. It was so cold.

She would not... she would not turn around.

"...Daddy?" she whispered, though her eyes remained closed.

"Oh Sabrina, my brave little warrior. Will you not look at me?"

She started to tremble, and not from the cold. "Just one quick little peek, my darling little ray of light. My little sunshine."

Even as she kept crying, she kept her eyes tight and remembered the lesson that Mr. Wednesday had taught her.

Protective thoughts. Thoughts that made her warm and safe.

The tears started to cease.

"What are you doing?" the voice asked. Was it... afraid?

She could feel the lines tracing across her skin, and she grew warmer.

Though her eyes were closed, she could see the bright turquoise glow enveloping the glade.

"St**op this! Stop it! That Light! Turn it off! Turn it off and turn around!**

"NO!" Sabrina declared! "My name is Sabrina Edwina Diana Spellman, and I will Not. Turn. Around!"

SHE WOULD NOT TURN AROUND!

This time, when the beast screamed, it was real!

She could feel the reinforcement. She could feel every individual piece of pine straw and grass and speck of dirt beneath her feet. She could smell every scent on the wind. She could feel the rays of the moon, dancing across her skin.

She was Sabrina Spellman.

She was...

* * *

_Sunday Morning, November 9th_

She felt a heavy coat fall over her shoulders. "It's over girlie. Ye can open yer eyes now."

A bird tweeted out its morning song.

She felt sunlight on her skin.

"It's alright, Miss. It's morning now. You passed their test, and you can come back to school now. You're safe."

The girl who did not turn around opened her eyes at the two familiar voices. Then, she slowly turned around. Now standing in front of her was Quentin and Rey, the latter of whom was pointedly looking only at her face, and not at her bare legs.

She hugged the long jacket tight around her. "You two?" she said, in a voice that was hoarse. "No. You two, you shouldn't be out here alone. It's not safe."

Rey waved off her concerns. "I'm not too bloody worried about tha'. Got me a few charms tae keep the bloody beasts at bay in the sun. But, as for wee Quentin here?" His face grew somber. "Well, there 'tain't nothin' out 'ere tha' can bloody well 'hurt 'i'm anymore."

"Wh-wha?"

Rey sighed as he and Quentin exchanged a knowing look. "Think it'd be best to show 'er, boy-o."

Quentin nodded in agreement. "I concur. Follow us, please."

Despite how tired and cold she was feeling, Sabrina followed the two.

Eventually, they came to another clearing, this one... this one full of gravestones. Quentin then pointed to one in particular. "See?"

Sabrina felt her jaw drop slightly in shock and horror. "Wh- what?"

On the tombstone read the following:

**Quentin Corvus**

**Harrowed to death**

**1892,**

**in his ninth year of age**

Rey let loose a sad sigh. "Aye. From wha' Quentin tole' me, there used ta be a kindly groundskeeper tha' buried all o' them, the victims o' the 'arrowin.'"

Sabrina looked up and looked all around her.

There were so many tombstones...

She looked at Quentin, his face as impassive as the day they met. "After he died, no else came here, until Rey. We like the sound of his flute." He then craned his little neck at Sabrina. "Would you like to meet the others?"

As he spoke, more ghosts appeared out of the woods. The oldest was only Sabrina's age. A great deal were as young as Quentin, if not younger.

"Oh, Quentin," Sabrina sobbed out.

* * *

_Spellman House, later that morning_

_Breakfast_

It was, like all Sunday mornings, a lazy one. Ambrose was reclining with his feet up on the table, nibbling on a bowl of nuts.

Hilda was polishing off her second plate.

Zelda was enjoying her morning paper and fourth cigar.

It was quiet.

It was Lazy.

It was, in essence, and reality, a Sunday.

Then, the phone rang.

Curious as to who would be calling, Hilda ambled over to answer it. "Spellman Sister's Mortuary, how may I help you?"

* * *

_Academy of Unseen Arts_

At the sound of her aunt's voice, Sabrina let loose a shaky sigh. "Aunt Hilda, it's me," she whispered.

* * *

At the sound of her darling niece's voice, her face burst into surprised joy. "Oh! Everyone! It's Sabrina! Sabrina's on the line!"

As she declared this, Ambrose and Zelda hurried over to the phone. As they approached, Hilda put the receiver back to her ear and mouth, only to have to share it with Zelda a moment later. "Oh, it's just so absolutely marvelous to hear your voice. Tell us, how are you, my little possum?"

_"Uh, I'm okay, but I really need yours and Aunt Zelda's help."_

That caught Zelda's attention. "Sabrina? This is Zelda. What kind of help? What have you done now?"

_"...Children are dying at the academy, Aunt Zee. They are dying, and nobody is doing anything to stop it. _

Zelda and Hilda exchanged looks that were equal parts worry and confusion. 'Dying?" Zelda asked. "Dying how?"

_"Students have been harrowed to death by other students. And the Weird Sisters... they're a part of it. They're doing it to me."_

As a chill traveled up and down Hilda's spine, Zelda calmly snapped her cigar in half with her bare fingers. "Are they now?" she asked in an eerily calm voice.

"Not to worry, love. We'll be right there," Hilda declared.

_"Okay. Just please, hurry."_

* * *

_Later, Faustus' office_

"But honestly, Zelda. This is not something to get so worked up about. Harrowings have always been a long-standing tradition, a part of the Academy. Besides, need I remind you that you yourself took part in such activities?" Faustus inquired.

Zelda scoffed. "All I participated in was a bit of spirited child's play. I most certainly never killed a child!"

"Other than your sister, who, if I'm not mistaken, is in direct violation of her ex-communication simply by being here on the school grounds."

"In that case, I would contend that the circumstances surrounding our visit here today all but demand her presence," Zelda retorted.

"And I would contend that the Church of the Night can only be as strong as its weakest member, its weakest link. To expunge weakness, sometimes, a proverbial trial-by-fire is necessary to weed out the weak, so that the strong may have room to thrive. Thus, the necessity of the Harrowing."

At that last statement, Zelda strode up to him until they were face-to-face. "My niece is. Not. Weak."

At that, all Faustus did was just shrug. "If that is the case, Zelda, then just what is there really to worry about?"

Zelda looked him dead in the eye. "What if it was your child that was being harrowed?"

Deciding not to wait for an answer, she stormed out into the hallway, where Hilda and Sabrina sat waiting. "Well?" Sabrina asked. "What did he say?"

"He said that he would look into it," Zelda replied with a roll of her eyes.

"And you believe him?"

Zelda looked at her young niece incredulously. "Can swine fly of their own volition? Of course, I don't. As such, it seems that we will have to deal with this ourselves. Take us to the children."

* * *

_Later, Graveyard of the Harrowed_

As Sabrina led them to the graveyard, where Rey (who was apparently Sabrina's new friend, though he looked Irish) was waiting, even Zelda was taken aback by the amount of gravestones. Hilda let out a shocked gasp.

There were so many.

" 'Tis not an easy sight. Never is," the boy said, in a thick brogue.

Dear Satan, he was Irish.

"Quentin?" Sabrina called out. "Would you please come out?"

No one answered. Rey sighed. "Give it a wee bit, girlie. They not be too trustin' of strangers."

But Sabrina would not be deterred. In that, she reminded Zelda of her father. "We... we just want to help. You can bring the others."

A gush of wind echoed behind them. Slowly, Zelda, Hilda, and Sabrina turned and were face to face with the ghosts.

There were so many.

"Oh, the poor dears," Hilda cooed. "Your heart just breaks for them."

"I... I think they're bound to the academy because they died here," Sabrina said.

Zelda clucked her tongue in disgust. "Witches hurting witches. The very thought of it is unspeakable!" She ignored the look of disbelief that Hilda shot her way.

"How can we free them?" Sabrina asked.

Zelda walked forward and bent down slightly to look at the dead children. "Is that what you want, children? To be released from here?" Because if that were the case, then maybe she would have to giver her friends in New Orleans a call...

The little boy at the front of the group cocked his head at her in confusion. "Where would we even go? This place, it's our home."

Oh. Never mind then. Zelda nodded her head sadly in agreement. "Yes. Yes, it is." She straightened up and crossed her arms. "So, if you don't want to leave, then is it that you do want?"

The little boy did not answer, almost as if he were too embarrassed to do so. Then, Hilda cleared her throat. "I... I think that I know what they want." She slowly ambled forward to look at the children. "You know, I was harrowed, back in my day. By my own sister, no less."

Great Satan, was she really going to hang that over her head, now?

Hilda took a deep breath. 'And, during all of that, do you know what the thing that I craved the most was? Revenge."

The children all perked up at that last word. Hilda took it as a sign to continue. "I think that's it. They just need someone to give them permission to do it."

She walked forwards. "Right? Because isn't that what all well-behaved children need? Permission?"

The little boy, Quentin, enthusiastically nodded. Hilda smiled wide. "Right then, come on. Gather all around, my little ducklings. Now, you just listen to your Auntie Hilda. We're all going to play a nice little game, and it's going to be just absolutely fun!"

As the children and Zelda and Sabrina and the Irish boy all gathered around her, Hilda started to lay out the plan...

* * *

_Later that night,_

_Putnam farm_

After being informed by Roz about Susie's uncle, Harvey had all but demanded to come over that night.

Now, here he was, at the house, whilst Susie and Roz sat at the Kitchen table.

"Why didn't you tell us about your uncle, Susie?" he asked.

"Because my dad doesn't want us talking about him. Also, in case you've forgotten, your dad owns the mine that made my uncle sick in the first place."

Harvey felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise up. It smelled weird in this house, and he found himself rubbing his hands together nervously. "Listen, do you have any idea what Jesse might have seen down there? Did he ever tell you?"

As Susie shook her head and opened her mouth to answer, the sound of a bell echoed through the house. "Wait. Is that him?" Harvey asked. 'Can I talk to him?"

"I.. I'm not sure that's such a great idea, Harvey," Susie argued.

"Susie, please, I have to know."

"Why? What's wrong?"

Harvey took a deep breath. 'It's because... I saw something in the mines as well."

Though Susie looked shocked, a nod from Roz seemed to change her mind.

Slowly, slowly, Harvey went up the stairs, followed by Susie and Roz.

The close her got, the more his senses started to go haywire. That smell, it was like that day in the mines...

The bell rang again. As they approached the door to his room, Harvey went on ahead, despite every instinct telling him to bolt out the door. The smell was only growing.

With an excruciatingly loud creak, he opened the door. The room was filled with the sound of heavy breathing.

Well, here went nothing.

Harvey cleared his throat as he walked into the room, towards the bed, upon which was a quivering mound of covers. "Uh... Mr. Putnam."

Only heavy breathing answered him. "I'm... I'm a friend of Susie's."

Still no answer. Only breathing.

Swallowing, Harvey went closer to the bed. "Uh... Susie told me you used to work in the mines, and uh..."

The smell was so intense. What was wrong with him?

He was now at the bedside, and he knelt down to get at eye-level. "... she told me that's how you got sick."

Heavy breathing.

"Look, I've been down there, and... I was just wondering if... maybe you saw what I saw. If so... then... maybe you'd... you'd be willing to talk to me?"

More heavy breathing, but the smell grew stronger yet.

Harvey swallowed the fear in his throat. "Or, maybe, I can just talk, and all you'd have to do is just ring yes or no?"

Suddenly, the covers were thrown back, and a horror greeted Harvey's eyes. The man's skin was red and covered in leaking boils. "HE'S GONNA EAT YER SOULS!"

Then next thing Harvey knew, he was being thrown into the wall.

As Susie and Roz screamed in fright, the man then tackled Harvey to the ground, his hands wrapped tight around Harvey's neck. Jesse was grunting and growling like a wide best, all the while screaming the same thing over and over again. 'HE's COMIN' FER US ALL! HE'LL HAVE HIS DUE!"

Susie rushed over and smacked her uncle over the head with a water kettle, three times. The man did not even fall.

As it grew harder to breathe, Harvey felt a snarl rip its way out of his throat, and a great strength filled his limbs. "Get... OFF!"

This time, it was Jesse's turn to be sent flying into the wall.

AS the man groaned in pain, Harvey leaped to his feet, taking in deep and greedy gulps of air. He looked down at his hands.

Was that because of... what he was?

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roz and Susie looking at him warily.

C'mon, c'mon, think fast. "Adrenaline. What can I say?"

Hopefully, that would work.

* * *

_Spellman Residence_

_Bedroom of the sisters._

As the sisters got ready for bed, carrying out their nightly rituals, Zelda with her cigar, and Hilda at her vanity, Hilda let out a little sigh/sob. "You know, I just don't think I'll be able to sleep a wink tonight until I know for certain that she's safe."

Zelda exhaled tobacco smoke through her nostrils as she combed her hair, and thought about the ghost children. All dead form harrowing.

Just like the harrowing she had participated in when she had attended the academy.

She took a deep, tobacco-laden breath. "Hilda..."

"Yes, sister?"

"When... when we were at the academy... if I pushed your harrowing too far..."

"'If'" Hilda asked, incredulously. "You were bloody ruthless, and not just to me."

Zelda swallowed, as the memories of screams sounded out through her memories. "No, you're right. I know I was. And... And all I can say is that I'm sorry for that."

At Hilda's lack of a response, Zelda sighed, and then rose from her vanity. "Where are you going?" Hilda inquired. "Aren't you gonna go to bed?"

Zelda paused at the doorway and then turned to face her sister. "I'm feeling a bit restless. So, I thought that I might stay up and read, maybe start a fresh cigar?"

A nervous smile wormed across Hilda's face, along with a chuckle. "Right. Should I put the kettle on?"

Zelda felt herself smiling at that. "That... that would be lovely."

* * *

_Academy of Unseen Arts_

_Girl's Dormitory_

Sabrina could not sleep. Even though she knew what was coming, Sabrina still felt afraid.

But, after tonight, it would all be over.

A gust of wind announced the arrival of the Sisters. "So, are you prepared to meet your fate, half-breed?"

Sabrina groaned. "Please, Prudence. Just leave me the hell alone, I'm begging you."

Prudence scoffed. "There is not a single hope in hell of that, half-breed. Now, best to get moving."

* * *

_Later_

Despite the noose and rope tied around her wrists, Sabrina felt a bit relieved. At least this time, they didn't make her strip naked.

After a long silent walk, they stopped at a tree.

"Do you know what it's like, to be hung, half-breed?" Prudence asked as she gave a hard yank on the noose, making Sabrina stumble a bit. "It's a common belief that it's quick. But, the truth? It's really not." As she spoke, she slung the rope over one of the branches.

"So," she said with an extra sadistic grin. 'Any last words before you dangle, half-breed?"

Sabrina swallowed and looked right at her. Before the sisters had come to her, she had made sure to heave her lucky coin in hand. She gripped it tightly, the familiar edge making grooves in her skin. "Actually? Yes, I do."

That got their attention, so she continued. "Centuries ago, thirteen were hanged here by witch hunters. Those women could not have possibly imagined any place even remotely like the academy. A school where witches and warlocks could be safe. But, even if they could, they would never believe that the women within its walls would just turn on one another like this. So, because of that... the academy tradition of Harrowing ends tonight, Prudence."

Prudence looked like she was about to laugh at that, but, instead, she then looked... confused. "And... how do you expect to do that, half-breed? It's three against one. The only thing you're going to do is dying. So, be sure to give the Dark Lord our best, will you?"

Her smile had so many teeth in it, as she yanked on the rope.

But Sabrina did not dangle.

Out through the mists came the sounds of a ghostly flute playing a haunting melody, as well as the sound of children chanting.

_Light as a feather, stiff as a board_

_Light as a feather, stiff as a board_

Around her, the ghost of all the dead students gathered, hands entwined with the other's, as they continued to chant.

_Light as a feather, stiff as a board_

_Light as a feather, stiff as a board_

Instead of Sabrina, it was the Weird Sisters who suddenly began to dangle from mid-air, a tight and invisible vice wrapped tight around their necks.

_Light as a feather, stiff as a board_

_Light as a feather, stiff as a board_

As Sabrina took off the noose, she watched the three witches dangle and choke for a bit. A part of her was tempted to just let them suffocate. But she was not that kind of person.

She was not them.

"As I said," she declared. "Harrowing of any kind will not be tolerated. Understood?"

While it was impressive that Prudence was still able to stare at her with such naked hate, even as she was choking, Sabrina would not be deterred. When they didn't reply right away, the children made the three dangle higher.

_"Understood?"_

Almost desperately, the three nodded their assent.

"Good."

Sabrina then winked at Quentin, who winked back.

The children stopped chanting, and the three Weird Sisters fell to the ground in three disheveled heaps. Meanwhile, the ghostly fluting came to a halt.

Sabrina watched as they lay gasping and choking for breath.

Slowly, she walked up to Prudence and held out her hand.

Prudence looked up at her, at her proffered hand.

With a glare, she slapped it away.

Oh well, no skin off Sabrina's nose. So, she left them there, on the ground.

* * *

_Putnam Farm, Meanwhile_

After what had happened with Jesse, all Harvey, Roz, and Susie could do, after tying him to the bedposts, was just sit on the downstairs couch quietly, while Roz fiercely scrubbed her hands with sanitizer.

"Well," she finally said. "At... At least he's quiet."

"...Yeah," Harvey said.

"Think... Think we should go check on him?" she then asked.

Susie half-heartedly shrugged. "Yeah... maybe."

Harvey swallowed the sensation of the man's hands around his throat still fresh. "...Probably should. Just to make sure he's okay."

Almost as one, they exhaled and stood up from the couch.

Slowly, they walked, up, and entered the room. As they did, the man suddenly began to grunt and twist and growl. The three watched him in horrid fascination.

Harvey then decided that maybe it would be best to talk with Mr. Wednesday about this.

He would know what to do, right?

* * *

_Monday, November 10th_

_Academy of Unseen Arts_

_Time to go home_

Sabrina had woken up early. After a nice breakfast, she had found Quentin waiting for her. So, the two decided to take a nice stroll through the school. "So," she asked, as they stopped by the great statue of the Dark Lord. "What will you and the other children do now?"

"Watch over the school perhaps. At least to make sure there are no more harrowings. Even after you're gone."

"Well, that sounds like a wonderful and noble thing to do."

The little ghost smiled. "Thank you, Miss, for everything."

"You are welcome. Glad we could help."

With another smile, the little boy faded away.

The sound of enthusiastic applause made her turn around, to see Rey, though he was not only clapping. He was also actually wiping a tear from his eye. "Bloody 'heartwarming, tha'!" he said.

Sabrina giggled. "Thanks for your help last night."

He chuckled. "It was worth it, seeing the arrogant grins on those... bitches faces gettin' wiped clear off like tha' "

Sabrina gave a small nod at his restraint. 'So, why are you up so early?"

He looked around for a moment, and then handed her a small box. "Got wha' ye asked fer, girlie. Now, I don't mean tae brag, but what I went through tae get these? Twould ha' broken a lesser man. But, there they are; yer pa's journals. May be of some service to ya with that bloody Acheron Configuration."

She looked at the box, knowing better than to open them when in the academy. "Thank you, Rey."

He winked at her, and then strode off with a wave. "See ya around, girlie!"

* * *

_Blackwood's Office_

Prudence opened the door to Father Blackwood's office and stepped into the dark interior with a healthy amount of fear. "You... you asked to see me, Reverend father?" she asked, her voice still a bit hoarse from last night.

"I did, Prudence," he replied, not looking up from the large book in his hands.

As he closed it, the doors behind her slammed shut. He then stood up. "There were three of you, all senior students, and each exceptionally powerful when alone. Meanwhile, there was but one of her. She is just a mortal hedge witch, a half-breed, with no formal training. And yet, despite what should have been a great difference in power, she. Bested. YOU!"

At that last word, he slammed the book down upon his desk. "She utterly humiliated you!"

Prudence swallowed. "There's... there's no excuse, Reverend Father. But, I swear; it will not happen again."

"For your sake, _girl_, I hope not."

He then took a deep breath and walked over to his fireplace. "The Dark Lord has made it quite clear that Sabrina Spellman is to be educated at this prestigious institution. So be it. But, he sadly was quite unclear as to whether or not she be made to suffer while here."

He then looked over his shoulder at Prudence. "That is all. You may go now."

Prudence nodded and left the room. As she did so, she could not help but fixate on something.

It may have been her imagination, but, for a brief moment, while he had been yelling at her, it seemed like his eyes had glowed red...

* * *

_Harrowing Graveyard_

Rey and Quentin walked through the graveyard, staring at each and every one of the tombstones.

"Strewth, bu' it really jus' breaks a body's 'heart, don' it?" Rey asked.

"Indeed," agreed his companion. "Perhaps it is a small mercy that none of them ever actually became ghosts."

As he spoke, light and wind swirled around the boy, and then, where a boy once stood, there was now a large black raven with white eyes.

Rey chuckled. "Bloody brilliant. Tell the old man tha' I 'said 'ey, will ya? Tha' girl is bloody somthin' else, ain't she?"

_I shall relay your message, fox. And yes, she is. _

* * *

_Later that night_

_Spellman Residence_

It felt wonderful to be back in her room, in her bed, even if she had to go back to the Academy eventually. Most of the day had been consumed with pouring over her dad's journals. So far, they had revealed nothing. So, at the moment, she was taking a break, and talking with Harvey, who, it seemed had had quite the night of his own.

_"I don't know, Sabrina. Maybe he's possessed or something? Is that a real thing?"_

"Unfortunately, it is. But man, poor Susie."

_"Yeah. It... it was something. Maybe Mr. Wednesday will know what to do?"_

"Hopefully," Sabrina agreed.

_"So... how are you? Glad to be back?"_

Sabrina chuckled. "Like you would not believe, Harvey."

_"I'm just happy you're okay. So... want me to come over?"_

She glanced at the Acheron Configuration resting on her bed. "It's tempting, but... I'm really kind of tired. Plus, I really want to solve this puzzle."

_"Right, right, the Acheron Configuration, or something." _

Sabrina chuckled again._ "But,_ walk me to school tomorrow?"

This time, he chuckled. _"Wouldn't miss it for the World, Sabrina Spellman. I love you."_

"I love you too, Harvey Kinkle."

As she hung up the phone, she took another look at the Acheron Configuration. On a whim, she leafed through the first of her father's journals.

It was just page after page of knowledge that, she was forced to admit, was way beyond her. A few pages were even covered in nothing but odd circles, a weird chant, and strange red symbols, each of which was made from three shapes. On and on, page after page...

On one page... was a drawing of mom.

Then, she noticed something weird. The next several pages after the drawing, they all had folding marks.

As she folded them back, one on top of the other, the tops spelled out a weird word.

**A**

**Y**

**L**

**E**

**S**

**B**

**U**

**R**

**Y**

Below the words was a design like the interior of the Acheron Configuration. Was that the way to get it open?

She grabbed the puzzle

One by one, as she shifted the knobs, they clicked open.

As the last one clicked, the box opened, and a pile of dust filtered out.

(**OST: Life on MARS)**

* * *

_Putnam's House_

The thing inside Jesse Putnam suddenly began to make him scream and roar and thrash as the music began.

Susie suddenly felt afraid.

**_~It's a God-awful Sad affair_**

**~_To the girl with the mousy hair_**

* * *

_Walker Residence_

Under her cover's Roz felt the sudden need to suddenly scream and clap her hands over her ears.

**~_But her mummy is yelling no_**

**_~And Her daddy is praying to go!_**

* * *

_Kinkle House_

Harvey felt like he was about to go mad, as he clapped his hands over his ears, and a new smell invaded his nostrils.

Where was that music coming from!?

**_~But her friends are nowhere to be seen_**

**_~Now she walks through her sunken Dream_**

* * *

_Academy of unseen Arts_

Everyone in the Academy of Unseen Arts felt afraid.

Even Prudence.

**_~To the Seat with the clearest View_**

**_~As she's hooked to the Silver Screen_**

* * *

Within the Greendale forest, all its creatures, trees and demons... they shook with fear

**~_But the Film is a Saddening bore!_**

**_~For She's lived it ten times or more!_**

* * *

She had done it!

Conjuring class, here. She, Ca-

The lights suddenly flickered, a gust of wind blew through her room, and then, oddest of all...

Singing, and music.

**~_She can spit in the eyes of Fools!_**

**_As they ask her to focus on Sailors fighting in the dance hall!_**

* * *

_Father Blackwood's Office_

Faustus felt uneasy as he felt the oh-so-familiar power echo through the town.

But, it had to be done.

But, by the moon, the singing!

THAT SINGING!

**~_Oh Man, look at those cavemen go!_**

**_It's the freakiest show!_**

* * *

_Ms. Wardwells' House_

Lilith's head shot up at the strange rush of power that swept through the town, while Stolas cawed in alarm. And, there was that strange singing.

She felt an unusual bit of unease trickle down her stolen back.

**~Take a look at the Lawman**

**beating up the wrong gal!**

**~Oh Man!**

**Wonder if she'll ever know?~**

* * *

_The Nameless inn_

Mr. Wednesday, his Ravens, and Touko looked up from their activities.

_My Lord!_

_Boss, I can feel it._

"You got to be kidding me. One of them was here, in this town?" Touko questioned.

"Indeed," Mr. Wednesday said. "It seems that things have just gotten a bit more complicated."

**~_She's in the best-streaming show!_~**

* * *

As the music continued to play from nowhere, Sabrina watched in horrid fascination as, seemingly from thin air, two bloody dots appeared in mid-air.

Then, under them, like someone was slicing a knife through reality, a curved line of dripping blood emerged, in the shape of a macabre and demented grin.

As the blood dripped onto the floor, the face began to laugh, a deranged cackle, so devoid of any humanity or sanity.

As the laughter grew louder, the mouth opened so wide!

Sabrina screamed.

**~_Is there Life on Marrrrrsssss?_~**

* * *

**A/N. I am so sorry that this chapter took so long. My computer had been in the shop getting repaired for a while.**

**If you know who that bloody smile is in the end, then congratulations. I will be doing my best to make the next chapter as mind-bending horrifying as possible. **

**Read, review, and enjoy.**


	13. Chapter 13

Fate Ragnarök Chapter 13: Requiem for a Nightmare (Is this real)

_Spellman Residence_

Hilda giggled, and Zelda was doing her utmost best to ignore it. She was never fond of her sister's chortle, as it always reminded her of a pig's squeal.

But, Zelda had resolved to be something of a better sister, and so ignore her, and returned to her unholy bible.

Hilda turned a page in her smutty book, and chortled again. She even snorted, bringing new life to the pig imagery. "Oooh, now that's just nasty," Hilda cooed, as she turned a page.

After the next round of gasps, chuckles, and squeals, Zelda's Devil-given patience had run thin. "Oh, for the love of Lucifer and all His Fallen, Hilda, would you please try and calm down!?"

Hilda sheepishly looked over at Zelda, though she failed to restrain another giggle. 'Oh, dreadfully sorry. Just... It's just that it's rather good. Not to mention saucy."

Zelda groaned. "Instead of filling what little grey matter you possess with that trashy drivel, you should instead be reading only one book, especially in the wake of your total ex-communication."

Zelda held up her book. 'And that book, sister dear, is our Dark Lord 's _Satanic Bible." _

Hilda actually had the audacity to snort and roll her eyes at Zelda. But, being the magnanimous sister that she was, Zelda decided to let that slide. Then, she gave a small smile. "It is nice to have Sabrina back home though, isn't it?"

Zelda nodded. Every now and then, her little sister did say something right. Still, she said nothing, and went back to her _Satanic _Bible. So, Hilda continued. "It's just... I just missed her terribly."

Hmm, now it was quickly becoming annoying. Zelda scoffed. "Honestly, if our niece's three-day absence was so heartbreakingly trying for you, then perhaps it's a sign that your life could do with a bit more purpose.

Hilda nodded. Was her stupid little sister actually taking her advice now? "Actually," Hilda began. "Now that you mention it, I have been giving some serious consideration to applying for a job at that bookstore in town."

At Zelda's raised eyebrow, Hilda continued. "You know the one... Doctor Cerberus'."

Zelda rolled her eyes. 'You mean to tell me that you are actually thinking of working for that costume-wearing lunatic trash-peddler who dresses like Bela Lugosi?"

"...Yes."

"Really? And, what, pray-tell, about your duties here, at the mortuary?"

To her surprise, Hilda rolled her eyes and growled. "Honestly, sister, _must _you be so thrice-damned negative about _every_ idea that I have?"

Zelda rolled her eyes right back at her sister. There was no reason for her to get so overdramatic about it. It was not her fault that every one of Hilda's ideas were so idiotically horrible, now was it?

Before her sister could say anymore, suddenly, a chill of fear stabbed its way through the flesh of Zelda's back, and the most fearful melody suddenly blasted into her ears.

**~_Is there Life on Marrrrrsssss?_~**

Hilda actually gasped in fright.

A moment later, Sabrina came screaming into their room.

In a flash, Zelda and Hilda jumped from their beds, despite the fact that they each felt very frightened. "Sabrina? Wh-wh-what is it?" Hilda gasped out.

Sabrina was as white as bleached sheets, and her mouth and tongue were flapping nonstop. "Aunties!ISOLVEDTHEACHERONCONFIGURATIONBUTWHENIDIDITSETADEMONLOOSE!"

She suddenly took a deep breath. "DEMON! LOOSE! ACHERON CONFIGURATION! IT WAS IN!"

Sabrina was shaking like a leaf.

Oh wait.

A demon.

Shit.

Zelda took a deep breath of her own as she and Hilda reached for their slippers. "Alright. What kind of demon?"

"In the house?" was all Hilda gasped out.

Sabrina shrugged. "Don't know! Something scary that likes David Bowie?!"

Zelda rolled her eyes again, though all the while resisting the urge to let her teeth chatter in fear. "Alright, now just try to calm down. Let's be rational. If this entity came out of the configuration, then it stands to reason that it can be put back in the Configuration. Speaking of which, where is it?"

Sabrina loudly gulped. "It's... it's still in my room."

Then, a distorted voice echoed through the house, as a disturbingly gentle tapping hit against the door. Then came the voice...

**~Spelllllmanssssss. Come out and plaayyy!**

Double shit. Zelda could only groan. "Well, this is indeed just an absolutely fine kettle of fish. Come on. Through here. Quickly now."

As the tapping against the door continued, Zelda bade them follow her to the secret door of the room. To think Edward had called her paranoid when she had the passageways installed. Well, who was laughing now, baby brother?

As they all hurried in the main foyer, Zelda screamed for Ambrose. A moment later, the boy hurried down from his room... lacing up his pants as he did so.

Dear Satan, did he have no shame?

He looked over them all with annoyance. 'Sabrina? What the devil is going on?"

Sabrina shook her head rapidly. "Not the devil, Ambrose. A demon! In the fucking house!"

"What do you mean a demon? What kind of demon?"

Zelda cleared her throat. "Everyone, try to maintain some semblance of calm. Besides, whatever kind of demon this is, remember that we have protocols in place for this sort of event.

Sabrina looked confused. "We do?"

"Indeed. We must seal the house so as to contain the entity, thus ensuring that it cannot run free to cause ruin and rampant chaos."

As her family all nodded in understanding, they all then clasped hands in a circle and started to chant.

_Ex Spiritibus enim sie te aeris_

At the utterance of the words, a feeling began to suffuse the house.

_Qui Omnipotnetium Tuam parcendo clavem ad_

Each line of the chant brought to mind and ear a feeling which was that of the tumblers in locks, whirring to life, and securing every crack, crevice, door, window, and floorboard and tile and brick in the house.

_Ostium ligate Diabolum hunc!_

As they chanted, so did the house became like a vault; impenetrable, inescapable, and solid as a mountain.

_Hoc Captionem, et daemonium ab grandus cincinno_

As they finished the spell, the sound of applause could be heard.

**~_Bravaaa! Bravaaa! Braaavisssimooo!_**

It seemed to be emanating from the stairway. But there was nothing there.

Zelda strode in front of her family. "Wherever you are, demon, show yourself!"

At first, they saw nothing. Then, over the stairs, came a smiling face made from blood and twisted laughter.

Zelda would not be frightened. "Know this, demon! This house is sealed with an incantation that we, and only we, know. Should you attempt to harm us, you will forever be bound inside this house, never to escape!"

The twisted face only continued to laugh, and the fear continued to jab needles into Zelda's spine.

Slowly, like ink dripping from a pen, a body of sorts dripped around the face. It formed a formless body blacker than the space between stars. It was blacker than a witch-hunter's soul, like a tear in reality itself. It kept laughing. It hurt to look at it.

Sweat beading on her brow, Zelda flexed her fingers.

Ambrose swallowed. "Wh-what do you want, hellspawn?"

It just kept laughing. Then, music filled the room.

**~_Wonder if she'll ever know?_**

**_~She's in the best-streaming show!?_**

The thing then tilted its head at them as it slowly began to descend the staircase.

Zelda had had enough. Thinking fast, she grabbed from a nearby box an average urn and held it up towards the demon. "Not another step, demon!"

Even as she brandished the urn, the laughter only increased, and the smiley face on the black mass only increased in mass.

"Whatever you're about to do, Aunt Zelda, do it fast!" Sabrina exclaimed.

Steeling herself, Zelda summoned up the chant from her memories.

_Turpis et Infernis in terris pariunt_

_Aduro Vos tamen hoc graceas munus_

As she spoke a sourceless wind began to blow, all about.

She was Zelda Spellman, and she would trap this demon!

The wind died down.

The thing... it was still standing there, and it was still laughing, as if it had just heard the funniest thing in existence. It was even clutching its sides.

What!? How had the binding failed!? That was impossible!

It was still just laughing.

With a scream, Zelda hurled a fireball right into it. The ball of flames seemed to just get swallowed up by the darkness.

Then, its mouth opened up wide!

With a laugh that seemed to shake the very foundations of the house, it raised its formless hands and plunged them deep into its formless body. Then, it tore and started to fling about shapeless mounds and globs of the colorless form.

Everything the globs touched, they began to cover and spread.

Then, it spoke again.

**This is just going to be so much fun.**

* * *

_Wardwell's Cottage._

Lilith had no idea what was happening, and that made her very uneasy.

She had sensed a great and twisted power emanating from the Spellman House, but had no idea what it was. It was certainly nothing demonic. Somehow... it felt much worse.

Steeling herself, she went to one of the mirrors in the cottage, and traced her finger around the rim. The mirror than darkened for a moment.

But... instead... Instead, blood began to drip down the top rim of the mirror, until it formed a twisted facsimile of a smiling face.

A moment later, a great roar of laughter shook her cottage, and then a blast of pure power sent her hurtling back towards the room's wall.

As she hurtled back, a strange voice shot itself into her mind.

**"Now, now. No early viewing privileges for you!"**

Then, the entire mirror crumbled to dust.

Lilith shakingly got to her feet.

Hmm... perhaps she would just sit this one out...

* * *

Sabrina's clock blared to life.

**_~It's a God-awful Sad affair!_**

With a groan, she slammed her palm on it.

_Sabrina's clock blared to life._

**_~It's on America's tortured brow!_**

_With a light sigh, she switched it off._

Well, time to get up.

_Time to rise._

With another stretch, Sabrina got ready for school as she headed downstairs. Today, she decided to dress in pants, a skirt, and a sweater, with a small cross around her neck. It was a nice little combination, nothing too showy, and it did not stand out much. She was never one to stand out.

Downstairs, there were her aunts, and Ambrose, and Salem, and, Harvey. He had come to pick her up. He was always so thoughtful like that. Aunt Zelda looked at her with slight judgment. Just because she decided not to use her magic and live as a mortal, that did not mean she had to be a passive-aggressive bitch about it.

It had been the right decision, to not sign her name in the book. Sure, her magic had been slowly dwindling, and she could no longer cast spells, but it had been the right decision. No regrets.

...

... Absolutely no regrets.

Aunt Hilda just beamed at her, as always. She had been more supportive. She set down a full plate of food in front of Sabrina, joined by one set in front of Harvey. He had taken to eating with them more often. But she liked it like that. Even Zelda tolerated him, to an extent.

This was perfect.

After breakfast, she and Harvey walked to school, hand in hand. The whole time, he looked at her and smiled.

She smiled back. "What is it?" she asked.

He chuckled. "Just... just you."

She chuckled along with him, and they continued to walk. After a bit, he spoke again. "Y'know... today is the last day of school. After that, we'll officially be adults."

She nodded. Eighteen. She and he were now eighteen. It had been a wonderful and quiet two years. "I'm aware."

He actually blushed. "So... look, I know that you probably have plans, but, and I was just spitballing here... I know how much you've always wanted to travel..."

She looked up at him. "Uh-huh."

He blushed even harder. "So, I was wondering if you would... like to travel with me a bit... after graduation-"

She answered his question with a long kiss, which he returned.

After a long moment, she broke the kiss, leaving Harvey breathless. "So... is that a yes?"

They both laughed at that.

School that day was fun and normal.

All her days since the refusal had been normal.

...

...

And that was fine.

As the school bell rang out, signaling the end of school for the summer, and of their high-school careers, Harvey and Sabrina bid Susie and Roz goodbye and headed towards Harvey's truck through the hallway.

Tomorrow, she would tell her aunts the plan, and then, despite what they said, she would leave this town.

She would be ordinary, and it would be fine.

**"Will it?"**

Suddenly, Harvey looked down in surprise.

She followed his gaze downwards, and she gasped.

Attached to her wrist was a chain. It was leading right through the hallway. Then, for a brief moment, there was nothing but fire in her veins!

She looked back up, and she screamed in shock. Harvey was dead, blood streaming from his mouth. A moment later, he collapsed to the ground with a wet thud, eyes wide open in shock and horror. All around her, all the students and teachers dropped dead. What was going on?

**"It's all because of you."**

The chain around her wrist was suddenly yanked hard, and she was dragged across the now bloody ground, over bodies and towards a mirror in one of the bathrooms. Even as she screamed and clawed, she was dragged into the mirror.

When she was pulled through to the other side, what she saw made her gasp in fright,

It was another version of herself. The chain connected them at the wrist. This mirror image, she was dressed in dark clothes and had a look of pure hatred on her face.

Sabrina tugged and yanked and scratched at the chain, while her other self spat curses at her and it. It would not budge.

Suddenly, it started to grow heavier and heavier, and the space between her and her other self shrunk and shrunk, no matter how hard they tried to pull away.

No!

She did not want to be her!

Stop it!

Suddenly, laughter filled the strange room.

**"How amusing. Now, for the other side of the coin."**

* * *

_Edwina-Diana's clock rang to life._

**_~Didn't know what time it was, and the lights were low-oh-oh!_**

_With a light sigh, she switched it off, and then languidly stretched. _

_Oh well, it was time to rise._

_As she did, she gave a snap of her fingers, and a plethora of sentient puffs of air took out from the closet the ensemble she felt like adorning herself with today; an ankle-length dress, taupe boots, and a golden pentagram around her neck, which showed off her now golden eyes. _

_It was exactly how she wanted it. She then admired herself in the mirror. By the Dark Lord, she looked absolutely ravishing. _

_It had been the right decision, to sign her name in the _Book of the Beast. _No regrets. _

...

_None at all._

_Tonight, she would graduate from the Academy, and become a full-fledged witch in the Church of the Night._

_Ambrose and Aunt Zelda were so proud. Shame Aunt Hilda could not be around to see it. _

_Since signing the book, her life at the Academy had been... excellent. She even took control of the Weird Sisters, with Prudence bowing before her in submission. _

_The day passed by in a whirl of spells and knowledge, just as excitement-filled as the last. Then, there came a strange announcement from Father Blackwood, ordering that all the Witches and Warlocks of Greendale were to assemble at the Unholy Cathedral. _

_Once they were all assembled, all looked to Father Blackwood, dressed, oddly enough, in robes and a suit of ceremonial armor, complete with a sword at his side. "Greetings, fellow Children of the Night. I thank you for coming, though I am sure that you are all more than a bit confused as to why I have called you here, or why I am garbed for war." _

_Everyone seemed to hang on his word. "I recently had a revelation. We were driven to the shadows due to the predations of the Witch Hunters, to hide in the edges of our own lands. But, even after we wiped their foul bloodlines from existence, we were still content to remain in the shadows, like cowards. But, now, I feel that must change!" _

_He spread his arms wide. "The time has come, my Children of the Night. For too long, we have hidden in the shadows, allowing the mortals to claim what is ours by divine right. Now, we take the fight to them! No more shall we see our lands defaced and spoiled! No more shall they destroy our sacred groves, and force us to hide what we really are!"_

_As the entire crowd cheered, Blackwood raised his hands high. "We shall start with this town. We shall purge it of all mortal taint, and reclaim these unhallowed grounds!"_

_The crowd roared again. Blackwood nodded and then drew his sword. "We shall attack at the witching hour, midnight! Tonight... THE STREETS OF GREENDALE SHALL RUN RED WITH THE BLOOD OF MORTALS, SO AS TO ANOINT THE FOUNDATIONS OF A NEW, REBORN WITCH KINGDOM! IN THE DARK LORD"S NAME!"_

_"IN THE DARK LORD"S NAME!"_

_Edwina Diana found herself cheering alongside everyone else. The High Priest then gestured to her. "The vanguard of this glorious assault shall be led by my own apprentice, Edwina Diana Spellman. She who purged herself of the taint of her mortal parentage, and has risen up to become my successor!"_

_Despite herself, Sabrina felt pride as everyone, even the Weird Sisters, cheered at that proclamation. Beside her, Aunt Zelda cheered the loudest of all. _

_These were her people! _

_This was where she belonged!_

_..._

_They were swift and deadly, and silent. _

_One by one, house by house, the mortals died, many still asleep in their beds. _

_Edwina Diana felt nothing, through it all._

_Then, she came to a certain house. _

_Inside that house, was a certain boy. She vaguely remembered feeling something for that boy, once. Had it been anger, or something else? _

_She did not remember much, from before she had signed her name in the Book of the Beast. _

_Like a shadow, she crept in. _

_First was the father, with needles through his eyes and brain. _

_Second was the brother, with a slit throat. _

_Then, up the stairs, she crept. Step by step. Then, she reached the door. _

_With a spell, she phased through the wood. _

_Inside, the boy slept, surrounded by drawings. He did look familiar. _

_As she crept up to him, he frowned in his sleep. Perhaps a nightmare?_

_No matter, soon he would have no dreams at all. _

_As she readied her knife, Edwina Diana, for some reason, felt an odd urge to touch the boy's face. _

_Before she could stop herself, she did. _

_At the sensation, his eyes shot open. When he looked at her, his eyes widened in confusion. _

_"...Sabrina?"_

_At the sound of that cursed name, Edwina Diana grabbed him by the throat and dragged him from the bed, so as to straddle him on the floor. "Sabrina Spellman is dead. She was weak, and so I destroyed her. Just as I will destroy you."_

_As she raised the knife high, his eyes were wide with fear._

_But, for some reason, she could not do it. _

_Something was physically stopping her!_

_The boy she had once known, he then looked up at her with... confusion? She followed his gaze, to see a manacle now attached around her wrist. It, in turn, was attached to a chain that led to the mirror in the boy's room._

**"Something will always hold you back, no matter what you believe."**

_No matter what spell she tossed out, into the mirror was she dragged. Then, in a strange room, she saw what was on the other end of the chain._

_It was another version. It was a... mortal version?_

_She tried to pull away, but the chain connecting their wrists remained firm. This was not her, this mewling, sobbing thing. This version was weak, spineless, MORTAL!_

_..._

_Had she been happy?_

_Suddenly, the two _found themselves suspended by the chain on a hook, high off the ground. Still, they continued to bat and hit at each other.

The sound of clapping interrupted the two halves.

**"It's just so funny, the way you lie to yourself about all of this. How long do you think you can keep these two parts of yours separate? How long until you either tear apart or all who know you hound and hate you for what you truly are? Over, and over, you go through the same motions. Ever day, and, time and time again, you arrive at the same thing; you're trapped between two worlds, and neither will ever let you go."**

**"Sad really your two, solitary options; Repress your power, deny your witch blood, and you will cause the deaths of everyone you love, all the while drowning in banal normality. But, if you indulge, if you give in to your magic and deny your mortal, then you will lose yourself in the magic and hatred, and kill them all, as befits their lowly station in life beneath your heel. But, there is no middle ground. One, or the other. Either way... they will all die. **

**"And it will be by your hand, willing or not."**

As the two Sabrinas screamed in horror and pain and defiance and rage at each other, the voice chuckled, and, before them, something coalesced into the form of a man with yellow-orange hair, dressed in the archaic clothes of a nobleman. Blood was streaming down his face like macabre tears. A massive, twisted grin was on his face, as he scrutinized the two Sabrinas.

**"But, for the moment, I feel that you deserve something of a break. Besides, I have been eager to have a chance to chat with you, daughter of my jailor..."**

* * *

Tonight, was the night.

Tonight, Ambrose and his friends would strike a blow for the Church of the Night, against the Church of the False God.

They would blow up the Vatican.

With him was his crew, all fellow disciples of Alistair. He and they had been through a great deal together, over the decades.

There was Fiona Foxglove, the demolition expert, and a witch with a great propensity for flames and arson. A bit ironic, considering her ancestors had been burnt at the stake in Salem.

Duncan Davenport, and his plethora of knives and sharp instruments.

Piety Ebonroot was their expert on getting into places that could not be gotten into, being an expert flyer and teleportation prodigy.

Ethan Nevernever was one of their heavy hitters, an expert binder that had managed to bind a powerful demon to his flesh and soul, giving him great power, strength, and agility. Though, it also made his eyes glow green, and left him talking in two voices at once. Still, a nice bloke all around.

Drake Duncaster was an expert illusionist, and he always enjoyed making new images. He could be relied upon as a crack lookout and distraction.

Whilamena Willsdottir was their other heavy hitter, who routinely strengthened her already considerable frame through potions and spells.

Ambrose, of course, was the brains of the group.

They were all tight, a family. Like him, they had all felt drawn towards the teachings of Crowly, due to feeling lost and aimless in the world. To them, Crowly felt like a father, someone who truly understood what it meant to be an outcast in the world. He had helped to give their lives meaning. So, in return, they would help him, by toppling the center of the Catholic Church, who dared to call him a monster.

The seven had been planning this for over a year, and, tonight, they were going to do it!

So, here they were, in the interior of Saint Peter's Basilica. Fiona had laid down several pounds of explosives, while Ambrose and Ethan prepared explosives of a more mystical nature.

Ambrose prepared the circle that would set off the immolation, though, he made sure to keep the runic detonator that Fiona had presented to him close at hand in his coat pocket.

One last bit of lettering, then Piety would shift them all out, just as he pressed on the detonator, then...

The sound of heavy, booted footsteps made them all look up.

It was a priest, but it was like no priest of the False God that Ambrose had ever seen. He was huge, nearly eight feet of what seemed to be pure, rippling muscle. He was dressed in a long blue cassock and robes. His hands were sheathed in white gloves. Under his round spectacles, a large scar ran across his left cheek. He had spiky blond hair that was shorn close.

But his grin, and his eyes. Despite himself, that wide grin of his sent shivers down Ambrose's back, as did the intelligence lurking behind his ice-blue eyes.

"Greetins'," he said, in a thick Scottish brogue. " 'Tis a wonderful night. Tell me, 'ave ye all com heer tae pray in this, th' most grand House o' the Lord? Praps, 'ave ye come to confess yer sins?"

Ambrose groaned. "Right. Fiona, Duncan, get rid of him. No witnesses."

"Roger. Hey, Mr. Priest, ready to take a nice long nap?" Duncan said as he and Fiona stalked towards the large priest. Duncan licked his lips, and a manic grin set across Fiona's face. Ambrose and the others decided to watch. They needed a bit of entertainment before the grand finale tonight.

The priest looked at them as the two approached, Fiona with fire in her hands, and Duncan with his favorite knives, the ones with handles carved from bone. The man no doubt ascertained their intentions. But, instead of cowering, his own eyes narrowed... and his grin grew wider.

"Good. Ah've been itchin' to spill the blood of infidels and 'eretics!" Six long blades slid into the priest's hands, each held between his knuckles.

Fiona spoke up in confusion. "Bayonets?"

He moved so fast.

Blink, and Fiona was on the ground, her throat slit. Blink and Duncan died slower, with two of the blades impaled through his stomach, before his head was then crushed beneath the priest's heel.

Ambrose, Ethan, Whilamena, and Piety looked in horror, as the priest casually strolled towards them, blood dripping off his blades. "So... will ye be repentin', heretics? Or shall I send yer black souls straight to Hell?"

"SCATTER!" Ambrose screamed.

Whilamena barreled towards the priest, her body rippling with muscle and magic, while Ethan dashed around. Ambrose and Piety flitted into the shadows of the pillars of the room.

Where was Drake?

With a laugh, the monstrous priest rushed forward as well to meet Whila. He dodged each of her blows, dropped his bayonets, and then punched her so hard that all heard the _crack _of her neck being broken. She fell to the ground wordlessly.

Ethan screamed in pain and loss, as his claws slashed across the priest's arm. Ambrose felt hope rise in his chest. Ethan's fingernails secreted a deadly poison. In a matter of moments, the priest would be-

Ethan's screams then turned to those of pain, and he was sent careening to the floor, two bloody stumps where his arms were supposed to be, courtesy of two more bayonets. Two more then sheared his legs off at the knees.

Ambrose watched from behind the pillar in horror as the wound on the priest's arm began to steam. It was healing!? How? Was he even human?

As Ethan and his demon whimpered in pain, the massive priest walked towards him. He did not break stride, even when Piety rushed up behind him, and he casually impaled her through the head with a bayonet that appeared from nowhere, without even looking behind him. He kept walking as she sank to the ground.

He looked down upon the whimpering Ethan, and then looked at the bodies of Whila, Duncan, Fiona, and Piety. He scoffed in disgust. "Pitiful. Just bloody pitiful. Did ye godless infidels truly think that ye could jus' waltz intae this 'Ouse of th' Lord, and dae as ye saw fit!? Were ye all so bloody arrogant as ta think tha' none would be able tae stand in yer way!?"

He slowly strode up to Ethan, and he spoke as he did so, his words reverberating with each powerful step. "_Ask of me, and I shall give thee the heathen for thine inheritance, and for thy possession, the ends of the earth. Thou shalt break them with a rod of iron. Thou shalt dash them in pieces, like a potter's vessel. Be wise now, therefore, ye kings. Be admonished, ye judges of the earth. Serve the Lord with fear, and rejoice with trembling. Kiss the Son lest he be angry, and ye perish in the way, though his wrath be kindled but a little_."

He looked down at the struggling Ethan and then grabbed his head with one massive fist. "Starting with ye, little demon-host, fer Ah will nae send ye to be judged by Saint Peter at the Pearly Gates with an extra passenger!"

Ambrose should have done something, during that strange monologue. The detonator was primed and ready. But he was too afraid. He could not move.

Then, as a glow emanated from his gloved hand, the priest... he began to chant.

_I kill, I give life. I injure, I heal. There are none who escape from my hands. There are none who escape from my eyes._  
_May it be so that you are shattered._  
_I welcome the defeated, the aged. Surrender to me, learn from me, obey me._  
_May you be at rest._  
_Do not forget the song, do not forget the prayer, do not forget me. I relieve you of all burdens._  
_May it be so that there is no deception._  
_Retaliation unto forgiveness, betrayal unto belief, despair unto hope, darkness unto light, death unto life._  
_May you rest in my hands. Let there be a mark of your sins. Eternal life is found only in death._  
_Forgiveness is before you, and so my incarnation vows._

"May God have mercy of this soul"

**_Kyrie eleison._**

As white light began to pour out of the thrashing Ethan's veins and eyes and mouth with each word, all Ambrose could do was just hide behind the pillar in absolute terror listening to his friend's screams.

They had always been told that the followers of the False God were weak, spineless things!

As the screams died down, the priest then let loose a great roar of an "AMEN!"

He chanced a look out from behind the pillar. All that remained of Ethan was an ashy skeleton on the ground.

The priest then looked up. "Ah know yer 'ere, little warlock. I can smell the taint o' foul magick in yer veins. It would be best if ye gave yerself up now, for if you run, then I will hunt ye tae th' ends of the Earth. SO, will you at least die with some honor?

"Or will ye flee, like the gutless worm that ye no doubt truly is?"

Slowly, he walked towards the pillar behind which Ambrose hid.

Ambrose screamed, and let loose a powerful flash-and-smoke spell.

Somehow, he dodged the flashing bayonets and dashed out of the Vatican. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Drake, and his head lay by his still body.

Behind him, Ambrose heard the laughter of the priest.

**_~But his friends are nowhere to be seen!_**

**_As he runs from his sunken dreams!_**

As he kept running, Ambrose then heard different laughter. Floating beside him was a man with yellow-orange hair, archaic clothing like that of an old aristocrat, and blood dripping from his eyes.

**"Amazing, how one's entire life can be changed in a single night. Were it not for you, they would all still be alive. This was your plan to begin with, and you could not even die for it. So, you ran when things got difficult. **

**"You should have died with them, Ambrose. Died with honor for your cause. But, instead, you ran. You ran like a coward. But no matter where you ran, you never felt safe, for that priest always seemed to be just around the bend. **

**"Eventually, you gave yourself up, out of fear. But, tell me, have you ever truly felt safe? Do you not feel remorse for what happened? You led your friends to their deaths that night, and the rest, you gave up, all the while thinking only of yourself."**

Time seemed to stop, and Ambrose skidded to a halt. Ambrose knew that he should have kept running, but he was just tired. Not just from now, but form how wasted his life would be, after this moment. A life empty of meaning, trapped within the grounds of the Spellman House for over 75 years. His life had been so empty before this, and it would be empty after this.

So, why not just let it end?

**"That's right. So, here's your chance, to undo your mistake. Let him catch up and kill you, and you can die with some honor, joining your friends in the afterlife. You even chance to complete your righteous mission; destroy the Vatican. Die in a Blaze of Glory.**

He was right. It had been his fault. They were dead because of him.

**"What say you, Ambrose Spellman?"**

Tears streaming down his face, Ambrose stepped out from behind the cafe.

A moment later, a bayonet impaled him through his shoulder and sent him careening to the cobblestone ground, and he screamed in pain, as the Priest stalked towards him. He felt the detonation rune in his pocket.

"Ashes tae ashes," the priest said through his grin, as the blood dripped off his bayonets...

* * *

Zelda never really thought herself as being overly maternal. It was not that she had anything against children, it was just that she never wanted much to do with them, aside from Sabrina, and even that had been a trial. She also believed that a child should never be coddled. As soon as they could talk, one should speak to them as one would an adult.

But, sometimes, she did enjoy watching over a few, every now and then, though mostly as favors to the parents, who were always so grateful to Zelda and Hilda for helping to bring their children into the world.

It was a good routine. Hilda would bake the children tasty meals and sweets and cookies and pastries and such, while Zelda would read the little things a few stories, as well as a few passages from the Satanic Bible.

They brandy she drank also helped, though she made sure to never smoke in the presence of children for too long. Developing lungs and all that.

Like now. As the children feasted on cookies and brownies and candy (especially plump little Fergus, who had come into the world at a whopping nine pounds), Zelda read a few of her favorite verses.

"_But of the Fruit of the Tree, in the Garden, The False God said, 'Ye Shall Not Eat of It, and neither shall ye touch of it, lest ye die.' "_

The children ate and were enraptured by her every word, even as she paused to take a sip of her brandy. She then showed them the picture from the Satanic Bible. "But, did Eve die when she ate the fruit, children?"

"No" they replied in their little voices.

She smiled at their answer. "No. Of course, she didn't die. And do you know why?" They shook their heads. "It's because the False God is a liar. He desired to keep her naked and ignorant and simple in his little garden. But, Our Great Lord Satan, in His infinite Wisdom and Kindness, whilst inhabiting a snake, gave Eve the gift of Knowledge, and, in doing so, he set her and Adam free."

As the children all turned that over in their little heads, she took another sip of brandy.

Suddenly, the door to the parlor opened up, and in walked three witches, each dressed identically, but with some differences. Zelda recognized them as the Weird Sisters, though. Over Prudence's head floated a burning crown. Agatha's hands were covered with blood up to the elbows, and Dorcas... she had glowing wings extending from her back, and a watery shimmer on her skin.

Still, why were they here?

Almost as if they had read her mind, all three of them spoke as one. "Sister Zelda. We bring you news and tidings from the Nine Circles. Our Dark Lord, in his wisdom, has designated your hose for a most special honor. Once a year, he assumes the shape of a man so as to visit his most devout disciples and break bread with them."

A flash of excitement began to slowly rise in Zelda breast, as the Sisters continued. "This year, our Dark Lord has chosen you and your sister for that most august distinction, Sister Zelda. He will honor you with his presence at dinner... tonight."

As the three departed, Zelda felt all aflutter. The Dark Lord, here, supping at her table!?

It was a dream come true!

She stood up from her chair, storytime was forgotten. "Hilda! Oh, Hilda!" she cried out.

In from the kitchen, Hilda waddled. 'Yeah? What is it?"

"Stupendous news, my sister. The Dark Lord, he is to sup with us, tonight, at our table!" A dreamy look then etched itself onto Zelda's face. "Tonight. Oh sister, can you not imagine?"

Hilda actually looked pleased at that news as she wiped down the glass in her hand. "Righto. I'll just lay on my vegetable pie then. That's always a winner."

"No," Zelda called out. "That will not do for the Dark Lord. Our Lord requires flesh and blood and gristle."

Hilda looked a bit embarrassed at being reminded of that. "Really. Oh, pity we don't have time to fatten up a calf. Should I just nip to the butchers and see if he can get us a nice roast?"

As Zelda put her book away, she looked over the children. Flesh...

She then straightened up. "No need for that, my sister. As it is, it just so happens that we have the most choice and succulent morsel very close at hand."

She knelt by the boy. "Isn't that right, Fergus?"

The boy looked up from his eighth helping of brownie and smiled sweetly at her.

...

Primed and seasoned and rubbed with olive oil, Zelda slid her dish into the oven, roast at a temperature of 375 degrees, Fahrenheit.

His parents would understand. It was not her fault that they had made the little boy so plump. Besides, Zelda was known throughout the community for her roast child.

...

Forty-Five minutes later, the table was fully prepared for His arrival. Zelda was so excited and see nervous, she felt goose-pimples ump and down her arms and legs.

As she put the last finishing touches on the table, the doorbell rang. "Can you get that, sister?" she said.

As she poured the perfect amount of wine in each glass, she heard the door open and close, followed by the sound of footsteps. Then... In He strode, led by Hilda.

Zelda's breath caught in her throat for a moment. It was him, The Dark Lord, and He was perfect. Long Black pants that hugged every curve of his toned legs. A white shirt left undone to reveal his perfect and glorious form, in all it's pale, snow-white glory. Last, of course, was his red eyes, and long, lustrous black hair.

"Dark Lord," Zelda said, with reverence as she curtsied.

He approached the table. Zelda and Hilda stood to attention, and He looked at them and at their prepared feast over with eyes the color of blood.

"Most excellent, my children," He said, in a smooth and perfect voice. "Now, what have you prepared for tonight's meal? Daughter Hilda?"

Of course, He would start with her. Get the worst out of the way, and save the best for last.

Hilda curtsied. "Oh, it's a vegetable pie, Dark Lord."

Could she show even just a bit more decorum?

The Dark Lord looked at the pastry for a long moment and then quirked an eyebrow at Hilda. "Would it perchance contain any onions, pearl or otherwise?"

Hilda swiftly shook her head. "Oh no, Dark Lord. Absolutely not. I am well aware of how much you despise the things."

He nodded. Then, He slid His crimson gaze over towards Zelda. Best for last, she supposed. "And what have you prepared for me, daughter Zelda?"

Zelda smiled. "I've made your favorite, Dark Lord. Roast child."

The Dark Lord examined Fergus' cooked body. Then, He looked back up. His crimson eyes seemed to stare straight through her. "And, was this dish prepared with the flesh of a Christian child, or with the flesh of a Child of Night?"

...

...

What?

Why would that matter to Him?

Zelda took a nervous swallow. "I... It was the plumpest child that I could find, my Lord..."

He continued to look at her. "Answer my inquiry, daughter."

She swallowed again. "Yes... he... he was a Child of Night."

The Dark Lord's gaze narrowed in distaste. "You did this, with our numbers still eviscerated from the days of the Black Inquisition, daughter Zelda? For shame."

No, no, no, this was not happening! "But... but is not roast child your favorite dish, my Lord?" Zelda stammered out.

He silenced her with a narrowed gaze. "I shall only be feasting upon one dish tonight." He then gestured with a finely clawed hand towards her sister. "And it shall be Hilda's vegetable pie upon which I sup, and it shall be with its cook that I shall dine."

He then held out his hand to Hilda, who looked more than a bit smug as she took it. "Now then, my daughter... shall we sup upon your wonderful dish?"

"Oh, indeed. Let me serve you, Dark Lord."

Almost in a daze, Zelda staggered towards the kitchen. Behind her, she could hear the sounds of her thrice-damned sister making nice wit the Dark Lord.

It felt like the room itself was spinning.

Nothing made sense.

From the dining room, she kept hearing Him, talking with the pig.

_"I must say, this is the finest vegetable pie that I have ever had the pleasure to feast upon. Truly, as succulent as its cook."_

Zelda felt her eye twitch at Hilda's vapid giggle. _"Oh my, you are just so very naughty, Dark Lord."_

The room was spinning. This was not happening; this was not happening!

On, and on they went. They even danced.

Why!? Why her!? WHY WAS IT ALWAYS HER!?

Her head, it was pounding. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. It hurt to breathe; the room was still spinning. She could hear music, and it would not get out of her head!

It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair! IT WASN'T FAIR!

**_~It's a God-awful sad affair,_**

**_to the one with the mousy hair._**

**_But her mummy is yelling no!_**

**_And her daddy has told her to go!_**

The confusion slowly turned to rage, and red dripped into the corner of her vision.

How dare she?

How dare she.

How dare she!

HOW DARE SHE!

She had to be punished.

In the foyer, Hilda bid the Dark Lord goodnight.

Yes, she had to be punished.

**"She deserves it."**

Without a thought, Zelda took up the meat-hammer.

Almost as if she were in a dream, she strode up behind Hilda, who was humming to herself like a vapid idiot.

Zelda raised the hammer high...

**_~Take a look at the Lawman_**

_THWACK!_

**_Beating up the wrong gal!_**

_THWACK!_

**_~Oh Man!_**

**_Wonder if she'll ever know? ~_**

Over and over and over, did Zelda hit her, Hilda's limbs twitching slightly with each blow, even as angry tears ran down Zelda's cheeks. "YOU DIDN'T EVEN WANT TO JOIN THE CHURCH OF THE NIGHT!" Zelda screamed, a blow punctuating every word.

_THWACK!_

_"_YOU NEVER EVEN LOVED HIM!"

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

**_~She's in the best streaming show!_**

Finally, Zelda stopped and tossed aside the bloody, brain-covered hammer.

As her sister lay on the ground with a split head, Zelda gripped the corpse's arms and started to drag her out of the house.

**_~Is there life on Mars!?_**

...

With a firm pat, the corpse was buried, and she headed back to the house. She needed a cigar, but, at least she did not feel so angry anymore. Besides, Hilda would do nothing once she came back, like she always did. Now, all Zelda had to do was wait...

...

It had been over twelve hours. An entire case of cigars now lay smoldering as ash.

But she would come back. She was too much of a coward to accept death, after all.

...

One year.

365 days

4,380 hours

262,800 minutes.

She had run out of cigars.

One year, and her sister had still not come back.

Sabrina had left, run off and eloped with that mortal of hers.

Ambrose had managed to escape, somehow.

Zelda had not moved from her seat, rain or shine, except to barely eat and shit and piss.

Hilda had to come back. She always came back. She was just being difficult and obtuse.

It was not Zelda's fault, though.

It was not her fault.

It was not her fault that her little pig of a sister had not wanted to use her potential. It was not Zelda's fault that Hilda had not wanted to become a witch!

It was her fault!

IT WAS ALWAYS HER FAULT!

**"It such a delightfully twisted little relationship, you and your sister."**

Sitting next to her was a strange-looking man, dressed in the fashion of a sixteenth-century Dutch nobleman, with yellow-orange hair, and pale skin. His eyes were also leaking an endless stream of bloody tears. But, despite that, malignant humor was alit in those eyes. He looked at her, with his legs crossed, and a twisted grin, as the blood dribbled down his cheeks.

**"It's just so... so marvelous, so twisted, so wonderful to watch! Whenever you kill her, you drag her dead corpse down to that little patch of dirt and bury her in it. Then, here you are, and you just wait, so very resolute and firm in your belief that she will keep coming back, over and over and over again, that she will rise healthy and hale in body and bone and blood, if not in mind, just like the Nazarene, though each time, it takes just a bit longer than before."**

As Zelda automatically recoiled at the hated name, the thing continued. **"Yet, what if, one day, when you kill her as the mood strikes you, you go through the motions, but, as you do, there was suddenly a little voice in the back of your head that made you doubt whether or not the soil will work its magic, and bring back your sister. That, maybe this time, she will stay dead, and buried, and rotting in the ground?"**

His smile was like that of the cat that had impaled a canary on its claws. **"Such a funny thing, belief. What it giveth, it can so too taketh away. Of course, it's a bit of moot point, since you've already killed her and all. Though, when you killed her, over a year ago, belief was not so firm in your mind, was it? But I am sure that she will return to life Any. Moment. Now!"**

Still, Hilda did not come waddling up the road.

The orange-haired man laughed.** "Or... perhaps not. But, it's not like it will really be such a loss, though, will it? You've always wanted her dead, right? Would it really be so bad if, this time, it was permanent?"**

With a scream of denial, Zelda picked up a shovel, and all but vaulted over the railing towards the patch of Cain's dirt.

**"Still, one but wonders as to why you feel such hatred in your love for your little sister. So... mayhaps we should turn back the page, shall we? Let us see..."**

With a scream of denial, Zelda picked up a shovel, and all but vaulted over the railing towards the patch of Cain's dirt.

The orange-haired man laughed.** "Or... perhaps not. But, it's not like it will really be such a loss, though, will it? You've always wanted her dead, right? Would it really be so bad if, this time, it was permanent?"**

Still, Hilda did not come waddling up the road.

His smile was like that of the cat that had impaled a canary on its claws. **"Such a funny thing, belief. What it giveth, it can so too taketh away. Of course, it's a bit of moot point, since you've already killed her and all. Though, when you killed her, over a month ago, the belief was not so firm in your mind, was it? But I am sure that she will return to life Any. Moment. Now!"**

As Zelda automatically recoiled at the hated name, the thing continued. **"Yet, what if, one day, when you kill her as the mood strikes you, you go through the motions, but, as you do, there was suddenly a little voice in the back of your head that made you doubt whether or not the soil will work its magic, and bring back your sister. That, maybe this time, she will stay dead, and buried, and rotting in the ground?"**

**"It's just so... so marvelous, so twisted, so wonderful to watch! Whenever you kill her, you drag her dead corpse down to that little patch of dirt and bury her in it. Then, here you are, and you just wait, so very resolute and firm in your belief that she will keep coming back, over and over and over again, that she will rise healthy and hale in body and bone and blood, if not in mind, just like the Nazarene, though each time, it takes just a bit longer than before."**

Sitting next to her was a strange-looking man, dressed in the fashion of a sixteenth-century Dutch nobleman, with yellow-orange hair, and pale skin. His eyes were also leaking an endless stream of bloody tears. But, despite that, malignant humor was alit in those eyes.

**"It such a delightfully twisted little relationship, you and your sister."**

...

With that, Zelda turned and walked back towards the house. "Now, go and clean yourself up. You look and smell absolutely disgusting."

When Hilda nodded and rasped out "Understood, sister", Zelda then smiled, and gently patted Hilda on the cheek she had just slapped, despite Hilda flinching at her touch.

She then leaned in and held the lit end of her cigar threateningly under Hilda's nose. "Am I understood, little sister?"

Hilda hesitantly shook her blood-and-dirt-stained head. "So, let this be a warning to you, my little sister; any silly little doubts or regrets that you might feel... keep them to yourself, from now on. In reality, Sabrina has no real choice in this matter. To think otherwise is nothing but reckless insanity."

Was she crying? Zelda felt tempted to slap her again but restrained herself. "Every time you encourage her to do anything other than join the church of the Night (and yes, I know of _all _the times), you are spitting on the memory of our little brother. Edward entrusted her to our care, _our protection_. If Sabrina does not sign her name in _the Book of the Beast_, then we will have... failed him, we will have failed our Dark Lord, and, most importantly, we will have failed her. Is that what you want, Sister? Is it?"

With a groan of exasperation, Zelda rose, and walked down the steps to her sister, so as to better look at her muddy and bloodstained face. Then, she sucked deeply on her cigar, and blew a large ring of smoke into Hilda's face, making her cough, and then slapped her, hard. "You silly, insipid little fool. I am your older sister, and it is my Satan-given right to kill you, over and over again, if I so please. Besides, most of the time, you tend to bring this on yourself, especially with how idiotic you've been behaving as of late."

"You.. c-c-can't... k-k-keep... k-killing me," Hilda rasped.

Zelda looked at her reanimated sister in exasperation. "It fucking took long enough, you little fool. I swear, each time, it seems like it takes longer and longer for you to return. Rather rude of you, to be honest. Almost as if you don't want to come back. Admirable, if I didn't know how much of a coward you really are, little sister."

The sound of a low groan announced the return of her foolish sister, as Hilda limped up to the front steps. "Zelda," she rasped.

Zelda enjoyed the feeling of cigar smoke wafting down her throat as she admired the nearly full moon. Lovely, as always.

...

"She was starting to get on my nerves, so I bashed in her skull and then buried her in the yard. Now, if you would excuse me, I need another cigar."

...

No dna no did ti og, kcab dna kcab sdrawot litnu...

Time started forward...

Zelda was perhaps ten, and she was listening to her parents, talking about her stupid little sister. They kept throwing a lot of big words around, like 'savant', 'powerful,' and 'gifted.'

**"Oh... I see. All of this..."**

Zelda was seventeen, and she locked a screaming and sobbing Hilda in the cell at the academy. Overhead, a dragon made of marshmallows and ejaculate dreams laughed and gyrated

Zelda was twenty-one, and she shot Hilda through the heart while a naked girl with wings on her head and a cockney voice ate an apple of flame with a maw that had more teeth then there were things on Earth...

36, and Hilda tumbled down a flight of stairs...

Hilda refused to use spells and got her head bashed in...

Wrist slit...

jugular severed...

Neck broken...

Gutted...

Drowned...

Strangled...

On and on did it go, on and on through the years... And yet, through it all, Hilda never once fought back...

Why?

Why would she not fight back? Why would she not use even one spell to defend herself?

Why was she just... taking it?

She had all that potential... more than Zelda ever did...

Why would she not use it?!

WHY DID SHE NOT WANT TO BE A WITCH!?

**"I see now... You were jealous. She had the talent. But she did not want to be a witch. And that... that made you oh so very angry... So, aside from making her never know her true potential, you took to killing her, over and over and over again. And yet, despite it all... she somehow still loves you. Carrot and the stick, I guess..."**

It was now, and Zelda was digging up the grave. What she saw made her scream.

Her little baby sister... flesh half-rotted. Worms and maggots cavorting all about her corpse. One eye looked at her unblinking through green skin.

So many maggots.

**"Hmmm... guess she won't be coming back, then... So much for being a better sister."**

There was no point... no point at all...

Sobbing, Zelda ran back into the house and slammed the door. As she entered the kitchen, she screamed, for there was Hilda, seated on the ground, still rotting. But, this time, she had a rictus grin shining through the rotted skin.

The man with yellow-orange hair appeared next to her, and he chuckled.

**"I wonder what you'll do now, since she's not coming back. She's gone forever now. Will you linger on, knowing that it was all your fault?"**

She did not deserve a sister.

She did not deserve to live.

Perhaps she never did.

Things like her never deserved to live. All they could do... was die.

Zelda half-stumbled half crawled up towards her and Hilda's room. There, she went to her desk. Inside was a relic from her revolutionary days, a pistol that she kept cleaned and loaded.

The man's grin was triumphant and mocking. **"Yes... that's right. Take the honorable way out, Zelda Spellman. Only then, can you finally rest, and atone for your sins..."**

Yes... yes, that was what she deserved. It was the only way.

**"Go ahead. Do it."**

Her finger caressed the trigger...

* * *

Zelda had deigned not to give much notice to Hilda today, leaving her to herself.

Feeling restless, Hilda had decided to head into town, to take a look at the place where she had been hoping to find work. Dr Cerberus'.

As Hilda ate her pastry, she felt like she was being watched. Over the radio, a song was blaring.

**_~To the Seat with the clearest view_**

**_As she's hooked to the Silver Screen!_**

"Excuse me," came a smooth, accented voice. "Is this seat taken?"

She looked up. Standing in front of her table was a handsome, middle-aged-looking man, dressed in very fine clothes.

Was... was he actually talking to her?

He gave a rueful grin. "Do pardon me, it's just... I do hate to see a beautiful woman sitting by herself like this, and I just had to intervene."

"Oh... Oh, you're talking to me."

He nodded. "But of course. I see no other beautiful woman in this establishment. Rather, none besides you."

He took a seat and took note of her flustered face. "Still, I must ask your forgiveness for my being so forward, and I have not even inquired as to your name. So, I shall give you mine." He extended his hand. "My name is Zepia Oberon Eltnam. May I have the honor of knowing your name, good lady?"

Hilda swallowed. "H-Hilda Spellman." She took his hand. "Its... it's a pleasure."

"The pleasure, Lady Spellman, is mine," he replied, as he lightly kissed her hand.

Oh my.

He then sat back down. "If I may be so forward, again... I have not been in this town, or, indeed, this country, for very long. As such, I find myself more than a little lost... Could I count on you, perhaps, to, as you say, 'show me about?' "

Despite herself, Hilda smiled.

...

Over the next few weeks, Hilda found any excuse she could to go into town meeting Zepia. She would show him all about town, and they would have a most wonderful time.

Then, one day, he surprised her. "Would... you do me the honor of allowing me to take you, as they say, 'out', to dinner?"

Hilda could only stammer out a blushing acceptance.

...

Later that evening, Hilda was all a bustle, as she looked over her dresses for the night. Maybe the red one?

Then, in walked Zelda, eating from a box of chocolates. "And just what are you up to, sister? You've been going into town at all hours for the past few weeks. Care to tell me what's going on?"

Hilda turned to face her sister, a bit of strange bravery welling up in her chest. "Well, if you must know... I have a date tonight, with a lovely gentleman."

Zelda laughed, as she popped a chocolate into her mouth. "Really? A living breathing male is actually interested in you? Doe he know that you're still a virgin?"

Hilda did her best to ignore her. Maybe the blue one instead, with the black lace? "What do you think of this one?"

Zelda ate a third chocolate. "Absolutely vile, but only because you're wearing it."

Hilda ground her teeth. "Well, if you have nothing nice to say, _sister_, then please say nothing at all."

A fourth chocolate and Zelda's ever-young looking face was smeared with chocolate around her mouth, like dried blood. "You do realize that you will have to put out, right? That is the only way that you will ever be even remotely able to hold his interest."

"No... No, Zepia is not like that at all. He is an absolute gentleman," Hilda stammered.

The green dress?

Zelda chortled as she slithered up to Hilda, a fifth chocolate in her mouth. "I must ask that you just stop deluding yourself, little sister. After all, it's just a certain fact that you're never going to be happy, Hilda. No one will ever. Want. You. Not now and not ever. After all, it's like they say; you can dress up a pig, but, in the end, a pig is still a pig. And you, my sister, are. A. Pig. Covered in turds."

Hilda let the dress fall from her hands, as she turned to face her chortling sister. "For Hell's sake, Zelda, you won't burst into flames if you're supportive of me for _once _in your life! But no, you're absolutely incapable of that, aren't you?"

Zelda's eyebrow raised. "Do be careful what sort of tone you take with me, sister."

But Hilda would not be deterred. 'In fact, I've just realized... Not once have you ever wanted to be happy, have you!? Not once have you ever let me live my now life. It's always been what you wanted, your needs, your desires, and now, now that I finally have something good in my life, I won't take it anymore! I won't be the put-upon-one any longer, of being treated like dirt and filth by my own bloody flesh-and-blood. But now, I won't be the afterthought, the joke!"

Zelda smiled thinly, as she stepped closer to Hilda. "But that's all you'll ever be, Sister. And nothing is going to change that."

Hilda felt her fists tighten...

...

Hilda left the house an hour later, a spring in her step, and her hands freshly washed.

No more Zelda for a while.

Huh... just like in Whitechapel.

She made her way to the address and there he was, waiting for her in front of the restaurant at the Nameless Inn. He clasped his eyes upon her and gave a deep bow. "I must say, you look absolutely stunning, my dear."

He held out his arm, and she took it. Soon enough they were seated at a window table, the full moon shining upon their table.

As their wine was poured, Zepia looked at her. "I feel that I must apologize once again, my dear Hilda."

"Oh? What for?"

"In all this time that we have known each other, I still know so little about you, just as you know so little about me. So, I must rectify that. Tell me, do you have any family?"

Hilda nodded. "A sister, a cousin, and a niece. Though, my sister... Well, she actually passed away, a while back. She was not the nicest of people but, I... she was still my sister."

Zepia nodded, understanding her unspoken meaning. "Say no more. I know very well how... troublesome family can be, especially siblings. But, is that not why we love them? Because we see not just the good sides of them, but also the bad?"

Hilda had never really thought of it that way. It almost made her feel a bit guilty, what had happened earlier.

Almost, though.

Zepia spoke again. 'So, tell me about your other family..."

On and on through the night, they talked and dined on good food and sweets and fruit and fine wine. It was lovely.

Soon enough, they found themselves in the Nameless Inn's ballroom, where there was music.

Hand-in-hand with Zepia, Hilda swayed and danced. It was just so lovely.

...

Through the years, Hilda had never felt happier, and there had been so many happy moments.

Every date with Zepia.

The moment that he had proposed. There had been such tears in her eyes as she had said yes.

The years passed by in the flash of an eye, and to her happy confusion, Hilda had felt herself growing older, alongside him. Her husband, and her love.

...

With slightly shaking hands, Hilda and Zepia clinked their glasses of red wine together. "Happy anniversary, my love," he said, his accented voice still strong.

"Happy anniversary," Hilda replied.

It was actually the day before. Sabrina and the boy she had married, Harvey, was it? Well, they were coming with their adorable little tykes to visit tomorrow. She had helped them come into the world, after all, and she absolutely loved them.

"A penny for your thoughts, my dear?" Zepia asked.

Hilda sighed happily. "Oh, it's nothing. I'm just... I'm just so happy."

With that, they kissed...

**"How absolutely romantic."**

She blinked, and, Zepia stood there, with a claw impaled through his chest.

As she screamed, he was torn in half.

**"But this is all just but a fantasy. Did you honestly think you could actually be free of her, Hilda?"**

The thing that had done it was a twisted, towering creature that... that looked like Zelda?

How!?

It started to scream and cackle insanely as it wrapped its fingers around her throat, as she felt the years suddenly drop away...

**_~But the film is a saddening bore!_**

**_'Cause she's lived it ten times or more!_**

It tossed her across the room as if she were a sack of potatoes, though a wall full of happy photographs of her and her family. Then, crouched in front of her... was Zepia, in one piece. But something... something felt wrong. He looked young, and... His eyes, they were bleeding, and upon his face was a grin of such monstrous intent.

He looked at her, as the Zelda-monster slowly approached. "Try** as you might, you can never be free of her. You can run to the ends of the Earth, even beyond, and she will always be there, behind you, attached to you. You can kill her, and she will just keep coming back to haunt you, not caring who she kills, as long as she gets to you. You belong to her, Hilda Spellman. And you will never be free."**

Then, the thing wearing Zepia's face perked up, as the thing tackled Hilda. **"Unless... you were to both die. What do you say, my ducky? Kill the monster, and then kill yourself. That way, she'll have no reason to come back. It's the only way, my sweet... the only way you will ever have a happy ending."**

With a scream of desperation, Hilda and the thing that was her sister, they wrestled and tumbled down the stairs, crashing over the balcony towards the foyer floor.

Groaning in agony and pain, Hilda dragged herself towards the kitchen, and up to the kitchen island, where she grabbed a set of knives, her days in Whitechapel coming back to her as she did so. Then, she turned to face the monster that had hounded her all her life...

* * *

As everything froze, Sabrina/ Sabrina looked at the man with yellow-orange hair.

"**Hello, little Spellman,"** he said, in a distorted voice.

When neither Sabrina answered, he gave them a little shove, making them dangle about.

**"I do sincerely hope that you have been enjoying my little shows. I have to say, it is just so much fun, watching the family of Edward Spellman go mad. Speaking of which..." **

As he spoke, he poked a finger into each of their foreheads.

A deluge of horrific images flooded into their heads and minds; whole villages slaughtered, covered in maggots and flies, while scavengers, animal and human, feasted on their remains; fleeing people being run down and devoured by monsters.

On and on and on did they see these images, and on and on did the two Sabrina's screamed, in horror and fear.

Eventually, the monster withdrew his fingers. The mortal Sabrina then took in a few shuddering breaths. "Why... why are you doing this to us?"

**"Why am I doing this?"** The orange-haired figure stroked his chin, idly covering his fingers in the blood leaking from his eyes. **"Maybe I'm bored? Maybe because I'm a petty monster who feeds off the fear and horror of al those around me? Perhaps it's because whosoever is writing this shitty fanfic has no real idea what the hell they're doing?"**

It shrugged. **"Or... maybe it's just because your darling _fuckface_ of a father sealed me inside a cube for over FORTY YEARS! Either reason works, to be honest."**

He jabbed his fingers again into their foreheads. They were given the image of a group of men and women, fighting what looked like ghouls and slavering creatures in a desolate English town. Some wielded blades and firearms, others used magic. The night sky above them was a pale red, and the moon... the moon was a deathly crimson in color, and, floating in the sky was a twisted smiley face.

She saw as three young men stood side-to-side, beneath the distorted grin. One was blonde, dressed in a trench coat, and had a cigarette dangling from his mouth. The second wore red, looked like a Japanese punk, and also looked similar to the smoking man, and carried a cane. The third... the third was her father! He looked younger, clean-shaven, and was dressed in black. In his hands, he held the Acheron Configuration, and it was open and glowing. Each of them, and the rest of the group, they were all bloodied and battered and bruised, but they stood defiant.

**"We met at Aylesbury, 1972. He and a group of other random yahoos, they interrupted a very specific ritual that I and my friends were conducting. Then, to add insult to injury, he imprisoned me! IN A FUCKING BOX!"**

He then giggled.** "Luckily, though I was trapped, due to my peculiar nature, I managed, through a road of nightmares, to dream my way into the realm of a place called the Dreaming... and then I feasted upon its essence. And it was glorious. Now, I can get inside your little mortal heads, and poke around as much as I want. For, after all, what is more dangerous than a dream?"**

He sighed. **"Still, I am here for revenge, and, I should at least tell you what my dastardly plan is, right? So, here it is, though I warn you, it is more than a bit of a cliche, whether in fanfiction or in real books; I'm going to drive you and your lovely little aunts and cousin utterly insane. Then, maybe for shits and giggles, I'll make you all murder each other in a delightful orgy of blood and gore, with maybe just a dash of incest."**

He then clapped his hands. **"Now then... BACK TO THE SHOW!"**

Then, he looked up at them. **"Though, for the moment, I might save you for last, little girl, what with you being the daughter of the warlock that bound me and whatnot. Still, can't have you feeling bored, now can I?"**

He then looked at them again and sighed. **"Although... this whole 'two versions of you?' That shit got old the moment that Lorithomar typed it out. So... let's fix that!"**

He grabbed the two by their heads and shoved them together hard. It hurt. It hurt so much. But, soon enough, where there had been two, there were now one. **"There. Much better."**

He then snapped his fingers. Three projections blared to life before her. **"Now then... Enjoy watching your family fall to madness and despair and fear and death!"**

He left as she began to scream more in pain and horror...

* * *

Sobbing, Zelda slowly raised the ancient pistol to her head with a shaking hand...

* * *

Struggling to breathe as she was tossed across the house, Hilda fumbled for the cleaver and knife and raised them high, to stab and chop into the beast as it charged at her again...

* * *

Ambrose fingered the detonator, tears streaming down his face, as he crawled backward, leaving a trail of blood, while the robed priest from his nightmares approached, blood dripping off the three blades in his hands...

* * *

Sabrina could do little but sob as she dangled from the hook and she watched her aunts and cousin about to die, the sound of footsteps caught their attention. But it didn't matter. They just wanted it to end.

"This will not be where your story ends, my dear."

Her head shot up in surprise. Mr. Wednesday?

Into the room he crept, dressed in his long coat and wide-brimmed, black hat. "It's all right, now, my dear. I am here to free you."

She shook her head rapidly, as she shied away from his touch. "No, no, this isn't real. It's not!"

He gently held her shoulder, as he reached for the manacles on her wrists. "I assure you; I am here. You are stuck in a nightmare in the Dreaming, a realm of pure unconscious. Now listen, I don't have much time until TATARI senses that I'm here. Just relax, and you will be out of here in a flash."

As he cut her down and the manacles disappeared into clouds of strangeness, Sabrina then shook her head as she rubbed at her wrists. "No, wait. What about my aunts and cousin?"

"They are all deeply entrenched in madness and nightmares. If we are to free them, then we're going to need the back up of a very imaginative mind. Would you happen to know anyone like that?"

Sabrina did not even hesitate. "Harvey."

Wednesday nodded. "This way then."

He quickly traced a series of runes in the air, and a doorway appeared before them. "It will be quicker if we go through Backstage. Chop chop!"

Without another word, they fled through the door, and found themselves in the open field of Backstage, under the endless night sky. Touko was even there, and she gave them a lazy wave as she smoked a cigarette.

Sabrina's mind then caught up with the rest of her, As Wednesday closed the door behind them. "Wait, wait, wait... how are you even here?"

Mr. Wednesday smirked through his beard. "With a little help from Touko. Once I sensed what was happening at your house, I had her send my dreaming mind into the collective nightmare that you and your family are experiencing. But come, we must not tarry. I need you to picture a doorway into young Harvey's mind. Think of something that connects you two, and then drawn on that. Hurry."

As Sabrina's mind whirled about, her hand brushed up against the necklace that Harvey had given her. She had never taken it off, after he had given it to her.

She squeezed it tight and closed her eyes, picturing a door.

The circuits in her arms briefly glowed.

She opened her eyes.

In front of them was Harvey's bedroom door.

Mr. Wednesday patted her on the shoulder. "Well done."

Without hesitation, Sabrina opened the door, and they stepped through... into a forest?

Why was Harvey dreaming about a forest?

And what was chasing him?

And why could she hear fighting in the distance? It sounded really bloody.

But, no time for that...

* * *

Harvey ran in the forest, as far as he could from the sounds of battle and violence, as far as he could... from the beast.

Like always.

The beast had not yet caught him, but it got close, all the time. If it caught him, he would get dragged into the battle. He did not want that!

He-

Suddenly, someone dragged him through a doorway, and then into an open field under a warm, clear night sky full of stars. He looked in surprise and saw...

"Sabrina? Wh- what's going on? What are you doing here?"

"Harvey, listen. This is still technically a dream, but, at the same time, this is real. Me and Mr. Wednesday need your help. My family is in trouble. We're being attacked by some sort of dream demon. If we don't wake them up, then they are going to die."

"We need your imagination, my boy. It's the only way to truly survive in the Dreaming. A strong imagination, which Sabrina here has informed me that you have."

"Wait... the Dreaming? Like in the Sandman!?"

"Yes, yes, but now's not the time for exposition. We have to free Sabrina's family. Now, each of us will free one family member. There will be a danger to going separately, but that will be the only way that we will be able to slip under TATARI's radar, though only for ten minutes at the very most. Now, hold out your hands."

Hesitantly, Harvey and Sabrina did, and Mr. Wednesday swiftly traced a glowing rune upon their palms. "Once you have found your target, clench your fist and think of this place, and their minds will be sent here to safely wake up, with Touko's help. However, they must be willing to leave by their own free will, or they will remain locked in their specific nightmares."

"But what about us?" Sabrina asked as she looked at the rune on her hand.

Mr. Wednesday sighed. "Unfortunately, we cannot get back to Backstage with the rune. Instead, we will all be transported back into Sabrina's nightmare. The moment that we free them, TATARI will be wise to our presence. It does put us in a bit more danger, but we cannot risk TATARI finding its way here into Backstage. The results would be beyond horrific. Now, remember... Now that you are aware of the Dreaming, you will, to a certain extent, be able to shape the unreality around you with your imaginations. But only if you do not let your fears consume you, for they will be made manifest in the Nightmare. And, most importantly... be careful. Now then, we must hurry. Pick a door, close it behind you, and off we go."

Three doorways appeared before them.

Without hesitation, Harvey, Sabrina, and Mr. Wednesday strode through them...

* * *

Sobbing, Zelda raised the ancient pistol to her head...

"Aunt Zelda!"

Zelda whirled around at the voice. "Sabrina? What are you doing here? You left, months ago. And why do you look like you're still sixteen?"

Sabrina cocked her head at that, but decided to ignore it. "You have to listen to me; this is not real! This is a dream! But, if you kill yourself here, then you will die in the real world! I can take you to a safe place, but, once you're there, you to wake up. So, we have to hurry. Do you trust me?"

Zelda turned to look at the rotting corpse of her sister, her baby sister. "Oh, Sabrina... I can't. I've been a horrible sister. I've treated her like hell rot for so long." She put the pistol back up to her head. "Maybe this is what I deserve..."

Her finger tightened around the trigger.

"NO!" Quick as a blink of an eye, Sabrina zoomed forward and pushed the gun upwards, just as Zelda pulled the trigger.

As they struggled for the gun, Sabrina kept talking. "Listen. I know that you haven't always been the best, especially when it comes to Aunt Hilda, but I still know you, Aunt Zelda. I know how much you really do care. You taught me so much, and there is still so much that you have left to teach me. Besides... if you died now, then you wouldn't be able to make it up to Aunt Hilda for all the ways you've mistreated her. Everyone gets a chance to start over, and this can be yours! So please... please don't die. Live, so you can be better!"

A second chance?

Fresh tears streaming down her face, Zelda dropped the pistol to the ground. "Sabrina..."

As Sabrina quickly hugged her aunt, Sabrina tapped the symbol on her palm. A moment later, Zelda found herself in a field, under a warm night sky, while a woman with red hair, Japanese eyes, and a cigarette in her mouth waved at her with a grin...

* * *

Hilda was already bleeding from a few scratches, but so was the monster with her sister's face.

Hilda kept a firm grip on her cleaver and knife. All of this... it really was just like Whitechapel, all over again.

"Right then," she whispered under her breath, as the monster growled at her. "Come on. Come on, you bitch! You want to kill me!? Then, this time, you'll have to bloody earn it!"

As the monster coiled for another attack, Hilda readied her blades.

Then, a moment later, a massive wolf sprang out of nowhere and tackled the monster through the walls of the house, and into another room.

...

...

...Huh.

"Mrs. Spellman?"

Hilda whirled around, blades at the ready.

Standing behind her, hands held up in surrender, was that nice boy that Sabrina liked, and who always seemed to eat a lot. But they had left together years ago, right?

"Uh, hi, Ms. Spellman? It's me, Harvey Kinkle."

"Harvey, right yes? What are you doing here? I thought you and Sabrina left together years ago. Also, why do you still look sixteen? I was at your wedding."

He looked confused. "What? Mrs. Spellman, none of this is real. You're dreaming. I'm here to help you get out."

"What are you talking about? She won't let me go. I've killed her, but she just keeps coming back. She keeps coming back, she won't let me go." As they spoke, the sounds of loud growls and roars shook the house. Neither could tell who was winning. "I have to kill her, and then I kill myself. Then, I'll be free."

Harvey looked at her for a long moment, an understanding beyond his years in his eyes. "That monster... it's Sabrina's other aunt. Your sister, right? That's who won't let you go?"

The wolf and the monster crashed back into the room, and then out.

Harvey slowly approached "I know what it's like to have family that won't let you go, that hurt you and treat you like you're garbage. But, doing this, trying to be like them... it's not worth it, and it won't make you free All you can do is just be yourself, and be better than them, no matter how much they hurt you. But please, you have to trust me. If you die here, then you die in the real world. Please, I can help get you somewhere safe for you to wake up."

Behind them, the wolf was tossed, bleeding heavily, into the room, where it lay on the ground, whimpering.

The monster with Zelda's face slowly stalked into the room, despite its own plethora of wounds. Blood dripped off its claws, and saliva dripped from its mouth. It was going to kill her again.

Hilda looked at the knives in her hands, at the young boy, and then at the monster... at her sister. She should have still felt afraid, but, honestly? She was just so tired of it all.

She dropped the knives to the floor with a clang. "No more."

As the monster paused in confusion, she turned to Harvey. "Let's go, Mr. Kinkle."

The next thing she knew, she was standing in a field, until a clear night sky...

* * *

Before he could be impaled, before he could activate the detonation rune, the priest was suddenly sent flying by... a giant hammer. Then, Ambrose felt himself being lifted to his feet.

It was that handsome new teacher of Sabrina's. If Ambrose recalled, his name was Mr. Wednesday.

The man gently shook him. "This is not a good death for you, Ambrose Spellman. This will not be where you die, either here in the Dreaming, or in the real world."

"Wait... Dreaming?"

"Yes, you are dreaming, and you are currently trapped in a nightmare. None of this is real, unless you allow yourself to be killed. If that happens, then you will die. I can save you, bu you have to want to wake up!"

Ambrose shook his head, as tears of sorrow and pain streamed down his face. "No... No, I have to die. My life's been so empty... I let my friends to die back there, and I should have had the courage to die with them! I don't deserve to live... I'm just an empty coward."

Mr. Wednesday sighed, and cupped Ambrose's face in his hands. "Oh, my boy... Such sorrow that you have held in your life. But, think of this; it does indeed take courage to die, especially in battle against a foe that you have no chance of defeating..."

Behind them, the monstrous priest slowly got to his feet, his body twisting back into shape, all the while he laughed.

Mr. Wednesday ignored him, and kept Ambrose's eyes fixed on him. 'But it takes greater courage to live. Live, and keep the memory of your friends alive, Ambrose Spellman. Live, and find new ways to make your life meaningful, restricted as it is. Live, just... _live."_

Things seemed to come to a halt as Ambrose mulled over the man's words. Memories of happier times then came to his mind;

He, Fiona, and Duncan in bed together, laughing about some stupid joke.

Drake's performances with his illusions.

The contests of strength that Ethan and Whila would often get into with each other.

The way Piety loved to dance and fly about in the night sky.

Then, all of them, in a pub, just laughing and enjoying each other's company.

If he died... then who would truly remember them?

Then, he thought of Luke and his winsome smile.

Fresh tears dripped down Ambrose's cheeks.

As the priest drew closer and raised high his bayonets, Mr. Wednesday spoke again. "Now tell me, Ambrose Spellman... what do you want?"

Ambrose swallowed and blinked. "I... I want to live."

"And so you shall."

The next thing Ambrose knew, he was standing in a field, under a warm, open, and endless night sky full of stars. For some reason, he saw Aunt Zelda, Aunt Hilda, and a hot-looking woman with red hair, a long coat, and a cigarette hanging out of her mouth...

* * *

Touko grinned as the three witches appeared before her, and looked around in confusion. "Where are we?" said the one she knew to be Aunt Zelda, who looked like a very sexy woman in her late twenties.

"Wait," said the equally handsome cousin, as he looked at her. "For that matter, who are you?"

Touko chuckled. 'Sorry, hot things. No time to answer your questions. Time to wake up."

She snapped her fingers, and they vanished from backstage...

* * *

In the blink of an eye, Sabrina found herself back in the room where TATARI had left her. Mr. Wednesday and Hilda soon join her.

**"Greetings. I would ask who you are, but I feel as if I already know the answer. At least, as much as the author of this poorly written fanfic knows. Though, considering how badly they wrote this chapter... I wouldn't put much stock in it."**

At the sound of the monster's voice, the three whirled around, with Harvey standing protectively in front of Sabrina. TATARI was calmly leaning against a wall, arms crossed, and looking at them with a demented grin on its bleeding face.

In Mr. Wednesday's open hands, fiery runes sprang to life.

The monster looked at them and chuckled again. **"Really, Wednesday? Do you think you can actually win against me, HERE? That those little runes of yours can do anything?"**

"Perhaps not, TATARI," Wednesday said. "But they can at least hurt you, even here. This game is at an end. Let us go free. Or, we can fight. But if you attack us, then you will risk bringing down the Lord of The Dreaming upon you. Do you truly believe that you can fight the Sandman, even as you are now?"

The thing tilted its head at her and Wednesday and Harvey, as if perplexed. It began to look at them with narrowed eyes, as one would a particularly interesting bug that was crawling on the windowsill, before crushing said bug.

Then, it began to giggle, as if it had just heard an absolutely hilarious joke. **"How completely amusing!"**

Then, it stretched and gave a polite bow. **"Right, this was great fun and all, but, I'm feeling bored now. Can't wait to see how everything plays out. So, Ta-ta!"**

In the blink of an eye, the monster vanished.

For a long moment, Sabrina and Harvey and Mr. Wednesday looked at the spot where the monster had been standing. Then, as one, they all let loose a shaky sigh of relief, as the runes in Mr. Wednesday's hands faded from view.

"Could... you have actually fought that thing?" Harvey slowly asked.

Mr. Wednesday shook his head. "Absolutely not. I would have been lucky to even last three seconds against that abomination, especially in this realm."

They were silent again for a bit.

"So," Sabrina then said, after a loud swallow. "What happens now?"

"Well, if I'm not mistaken," Mr. Wednesday began. "The nightmare shall unravel, and we will all start to wake up... and possibly discover a sudden need to change our bedclothes. See you all in the morning."

In the next moment, he vanished.

Thus, only Harvey and Sabrina were left. Harvey let loose another breath and rubbed at his head. "Man. This... this was freaky."

"Yep."

In the next moment, they hugged each other. "But hey," Sabrina said. "At least we got through it, right?"

"Yeah... yeah."

Then, he perked up. "Oh, I was meaning to tell you... I think Susie's uncle is possessed by a demon."

Sabrina's head shot up in shock. "Wait, wha-"

* * *

_Spellman House, Now_

With a gasp, Sabrina woke up. She looked around and saw the broken Acheron Configuration on her bed. Then, with a gasp of fright as all the memories of the dream rushed into her head, she rushed up from the bed, and towards her aunt's room, only to find them staggering up from their beds. It also smelled a bit like pee.

"Are... are you okay?" Sabrina slowly asked them.

"Right now," Zelda said, as she stumbled to her vanity. "I think that what we all need is a change of clothes, a cigar, and a hot cup of tea, mixed with milk, honey, sugar, and about three gallons of pure vodka."

"I'll... I'll put the kettle on," Hilda stammered out, as the two sisters stumbled/ crawled towards their bathroom.

* * *

Aunt Hilda, Ambrose, Aunt Zelda, and Sabrina all sat around the kitchen table, each nursing a hearty and hot cup of tea, and a slice of cake.

"So... should we talk about it?" Ambrose said. "What just happened?"

Aunt Zelda glared at him for a moment. Sabrina noted that she and Aunt Hilda were not sitting next to each other as they usually did. They were also trying their best not to look in the other's direction. Then, Zelda's glare softened. "Not... not at the moment. Let's just enjoy the silence. Then, we can all have talks. Talks that, in retrospect, have been long in coming... along with much-deserved apologies."

She looked at Aunt Hilda, who looked back at her with an expression that was a mixture of rage, love, fear, sadness, and... pity?

Suddenly, in the foyer, the radio blared to life.

(**OST: _Life on Mars_ and _We'll meet again_)**

**_~Take a look at the lawman,_**

**_beating up the wrong man._**

**_Oh man, wonder if you'll ever know..._**

**_We'll meet again._**

**_Don't know where, don't know when._**

**_But I'm sure we'll meet again,_**

**_Some sunny day..._**

* * *

As always, Blackwood was at his desk, writing, always writing.

"I must say, you pull off the short-haired look rather well, Serpent."

At the voice, Blackwood looked up from his writings, to see a young man, dressed in sharp and rich clothes, sitting across from him. Dried lines trails of blood lined his cheeks down from his eyes, as something seemed to almost shift beneath his skin, and his dark hair slowly shifted into a shade of yellow-orange.

Blackwood looked at his visitor and set down his pen. "I see that you are getting well acquainted with your new... suit, Zepia. I must say though, it is good to see you in sentient form once more."

TATARI looked at his new body and languidly stretched. "Yes, it is rather nice, isn't it? I must say that you have some excellent taste in body bags. Very good quality circuits as well, and not too bad in the physical department, either. So, I have to thank you for that."

Blackwood's head inclined. "You are too kind, Lord Zepia."

**TATARI** smiled with Nicholas Scratch's stolen lips. "I must say, it was a nice touch, getting the girl to free me. A bit of poetic revenge, I suppose."

Blackwood nodded. "But of course. After all, you are not the only one who bears a grudge against the house of Spellman."

The Dead Apostle Ancestor chuckled with stolen lips. "It's always amazing, how well you can get into character. The powers of reincarnation, I suppose."

He then clapped his hands upon his knees. "Well, this has been so much fun, catching up and all, but, it's past time I was going. So much to do, after all. Places to be, people to eat, and all that."

He then stood up and gave Blackwood a slight bow. "I do hope to see you again soon, Serpent. But before I go... a little gift."

He placed a small vial of blood on Blackwood's desk. "As a reward. This body's blood has already mutated into mine. Drink it when you feel the need to access the power from the Dreaming. Farewell, Number Twenty-Eight."

In the blink of an eye, the sentient phenomenon vanished.

The **thing** that had once been Faustus Blackwood looked at the spot where his fellow Ancestor had been sitting, and then sighed as he idly examined a manicured hand while looking at the vial of blood.

Ah, Aylesbury.

He then looked out his window, towards the moon...

**_~It's about to be writ again_**

**_As I ask you to focus on..._**

* * *

As the twisted music continued to play, Hilda, Zelda, Ambrose, and Sabrina all looked at each other, each afraid to move or even speak.

"I thought... I thought we were all awake," Hilda stammered.

"We are... we are," Zelda said, in a quivering voice.

Ambrose's hands were shaking.

Sabrina did not know what to think.

But they were all awake.

...

...

Were they?

**_~Oh man, _**

**_Wonder if you'll ever know?_**

* * *

**_~Is there life on Marrrrssssssssss!?_**

* * *

**A/N: Hopefully, you all found this chapter to be somewhat acceptable. Kudos to anyone who can guess who that priest from Ambrose's past is!**

**Second, the fact that Mr. Wednesday was actually afraid of TATARI should show how powerful TATARI is. **

**Also, if who you can guess what Blackwood actually is, then congrats!**

**Anyway, read, review, and enjoy!**


	14. Chapter 14

Fate Ragnarök Chapter 14: The Exorcism of Jesse Putnam

Understandably, no one in the Spellman household felt much like sleeping at the moment, so, they all decided to do various things to keep themselves busy. Zelda and Hilda attacked a few puzzles, Ambrose lounged out in the graveyard, and Sabrina felt like going to check on Harvey.

Once she was dressed, she headed out of the house, Salem at her side, who had been apologizing profusely for not helping more. But, she did not blame him. She just felt lucky that everyone had survived, more or less.

"Where are you off to, then?" Ambrose asked as she walked towards the gravestone upon which he was sitting.

"Going to see Harvey. See how he's doing."

Ambrose nodded at that. She had just gotten past him when he spoke up again. "So, when were you going to tell me that your handsome history teacher is a warlock?"

Sabrina stopped cold in her tracks, and turned. "Uh... what are you talking about?"

Ambrose leveled a look at her. "Please. You're good, little cuz, but even you are not able to traverse through dreams unaided, let alone pull a mortal through. And, since that is not an easy bit of magic to master, and he knew my name, then it stands to reason that your new history teacher is a rather powerful warlock."

Despite the way Ambrose acted, he could actually be wickedly perceptive. Sabrina swallowed, and then sighed. "I didn't want to say anything because he's... not technically a follower of the Church of the Night."

Ambrose's eyebrows shot up. "You mean he's a heretic!?"

Sabrina frantically waved her hands. "Shhh, keep your voice down. I don't want Aunt Zelda to find out. And yes, technically, he is, but only in that he didn't have his baptism either. But, he can still do magic. He's... he and a friend of his have been teaching me new ways to do magic."

"What sort of 'new ways?' " Ambrose asked skeptically.

"Well... they just taught me a new spell. Check this out."

Sabrina picked up a heavy stone from the ground and held it between her hands. She closed her eyes, and summoned up a memory of Salem, protecting her and Harvey from the scarecrow thing.

She felt the circuits glow, and then she slowly crushed the rock in her hands to a powder. "He and his friend, the one you met in the field, they taught me that, and they've promised to teach me so much more. I just... I just want to have more options then what I currently have, okay?"

Ambrose sighed. "I'll admit, that is impressive, and I understand where you're coming from, I do. But...You're going to have to tell them, you know. Or else, they will find out."

"Why, so they can turn him in? That'll be a death sentence."

"Well, you don't have to tell them the whole truth, but, in this little town? Nothing stays secret for long. Just remember that, alright?"

Sabrina nodded. "Look, when I have to, I'll just tell them that I've been taking secret lessons from a friendly warlock. But I'll be the one to do it, not you. Okay?"

Ambrose nodded. "Very well, little cuz. Just... don't let him take advantage of you, alright?"

"Thank you, Ambrose. And don't worry, I can defend myself."

Ambrose seemed content with that, and then a smile trickled onto his lips. "So... how did you do that with the stone?"

Sabrina smiled back. She could spare a few minutes before heading off to Harvey's. "It's a very cool thing. Mr. Wednesday, he calls it 'reinforcement. Apparently, what you do is..."

* * *

Not feeling in the mood to sleep, Harvey decided to busy himself by listening to some tunes and drawing. Though, recently, all he could draw was that forest... and wolves...

Still, at least his dad was not home yet. Probably still out drinking with his buddies.

As Harvey briefly lowered the drawing pad, he looked up, and gasped in fright, instinctively backing up in fear.

Sitting at his desk was Jesse Putnam!

Then, the man's neck twisted 180 degrees, the cracking of his neck filling the room as his wide and wild eyes settled upon Harvey and he sniffed the air. "Yer gutless, boy," he hissed out through rotting teeth. "I can smell the fear in your soul, and it will be the death of you!"

His mouth opened so wide...

"Harvey?"

The familiar voice shook him away and cut through his fear.

Harvey looked up, to see Sabrina standing in his doorway, a concerned look on her face.

"S... Sabrina?"

She gave a small girn and an awkward wave as she walked over and sat beside him on the bed. "Hi. Tommy let me in. I just wanted to see how you were doing after... what happened?"

Harvey looked at her and blinked, and her glow seemed to fill the room. He then briefly glanced over towards his desk. Jesse Putnam was not there. Harvey then let loose a shaky breath.

Sabrina looked at him with concern as she took his hand, and then hugged him. Her embrace, it felt soft and warm, and she smelled like sunlight. "Harvey? What's wrong?"

Harvey looked at her as she pulled back for a moment, concern in her eyes. "Um... remember in the dream world, when I told you about Susie's uncle?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Yeah... you should probably elaborate a bit more on that..."

* * *

_Walker residence_

Roz was having trouble sleeping. Weird dreams, and, for some reason, she kept hearing some old David Bowie song in her head?

So, she decided to get something to eat, but after washing her hands.

Feeling a bit groggy, Roz shuffled towards the kitchen fridge, rubbing at her eyes as she did so.

She opened the door and crouched to get one of the milk cartons. Whole milk, free of most preservatives. Perfect.

She started to rise from her crouch and- "There's no faith in you, girl!"

It was Susie's uncle!

With a scream, she dropped the milk carton, and it was full of writhing maggots!

As she crouched in fear, Susie's uncle giggled. _"For the faithless, there is but one punishment; if seeing is believing, then so shall ye be struck blind, so that you may believe in nothing! And so shall ye be left to drown in yer own unnatural lusts and darkness!"_

Roz shut her eyes as she trembled. It wasn't real, it wasn't real, it wasn't real, it wasn't-

"Rosalind?"

Slowly, Roz looked over the edge of the fridge door, to see the concerned face of her father looking at her.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" he asked.

Roz took a deep breath. "Nothing," she said. "Just... just dropped the milk. I'll clean it up."

She felt her hand tremble slightly.

* * *

_ Putnam Residence_

Susie scrubbed at her teeth with gusto. She had just felt the need, after the weird dream she had had.

Something about David Bowie, goats, and thunder...

As she rose from her rinse, she gasped.

Standing behind her was Uncle Jesse!

But how? They had tied him to the bed! Had he gotten free.

He sneered at her with rotten teeth, the expression so wrong on his once-jovial face. Susie swallowed. "U-Uncle Jesse/" she slowly said.

He bared his teeth as he slowly stalked towards her. "Yer nothing but a filthy abomination, boy-girl! And all abominations... will be destroyed!"

Susie shut her eyes. This was not real, this was not real, this was not real...

The sound of thunder echoed in her ears.

She opened her eyes, and she was alone in the bathroom.

She looked around. No one else.

No one else.

She looked out the window.

The sky was clear.

No thunder.

With a swallow, she rushed towards Uncle Jesse's room, though she slowed down as she approached the door.

Hesitantly, she opened the door and peered inside...

There he was, still securely tied to the bed, sound asleep, his phlegmy snores filling the room.

What the hell was going on?

* * *

_ Tuesday, November 11th_

_Dr. Cerberus'_

Despite the previous night, Hilda had still managed to wake up in the morning feeling somewhat refreshed. But, then again, she had to be.

Today was her interview.

So, here she was, sitting at one of the bookstore's booths, while the proprietor looked over her typed resume.

He was middle-aged, and rather dashing, even in the Dracula costume that he was wearing. Though, Hilda thought it made him look distinguished.

But, he was rather quiet as he looked over the resume. And that was making Hilda feeling nervous. "Uh... I will have you know that what I lack in experience, I can more than backup with enthusiasm," she stammered. "uh... I get on well with everyone, and-and I just love to read, en-enjoy a good chat, and... I'm a wonderful baker."

Oh bugger, she had interrupted him with that last bit! She swallowed. "Plus... I am a great fan of yours, Dr. Cerberus."

He seemed pleasantly surprised at that, so she continued. "It's just... I love my horror hosts. All the greats; Svengoolie, Count Gore de Vol, Vampira. I mean, we didn't have them, back in England, but, I do have them all on a wide assortment of video, let me say."

He nodded, a small smile on his face. "I happy to hear that. I'm not sure if you know, but I actually started out as Greendale's Weatherman..."

Hilda let loose another nervous chuckle. 'Weatherman, right, yeah."

He nodded. "Well, nowadays, there's just not really all that much demand for horror hosts anymore. So... Well, to pay the bills, I opened up this little shop of mine." As he spoke, he stood up and gestured. "A bookstore that can serve as a little port in the storm for the dispossessed and the weird. So, anyway, I do think that you will be a perfect fit here, Hilda. However, may I ask you one question?"

"Anything," Hilda said, with a smile on her face.

"Alright then. tell me, how do you feel about wearing a costume while you're working here?"

Hilda smiled brightly. Maybe things were getting better after all?

* * *

_ Meanwhile, Baxter High_

Even after what Harvey had told her last night, which wasn't much, Sabrina was still a bit confused.

So, before class, she, Harvey, Roz, and Susie gathered in the library to discuss things.

"Susie's uncle... he's really messed up," Roz explained.

"Yeah, beyond messed up," Susie added. "He had some kind of breakdown in the mines, and he's been acting crazy ever since. He even attacked Harvey!"

"What?" Sabrina looked at Harvey in shock and concern. "Wait, you didn't tell me anything about that."

"Didn't want to worry you. Sorry, but there was no damage. I managed to fight him off."

Susie nodded. "My dad called a doctor."

Harvey swallowed. "Yeah, um.. don't you think that maybe he should call an exorcist instead?"

Susie looked at him like he was crazy, while Roz chuckled nervously. "Really Harvey?"

Sabrina looked at Harvey like he was crazy, but her boyfriend seemed undeterred. "Wh- why would you say that?"

Harvey gestured to Susie and Roz. 'Well, I told Roz and Susie here, I told them about what happened to me, in the mines. Look, it may sound crazy, but I really think that he might be possessed. Maybe... maybe whatever I saw in the mines... it got Jesse, too?"

Sabrina swallowed. 'Did... did he say anything about that?"

Susie scoffed. "He said a lot of crazy stuff. He kept babbling and screaming about some sort of monster that he saw."

"Yeah, and then he said that he was going to eat Harvey's soul," Roz added.

What!? Harvey had definitely not told Sabrina anything about that! She glared at him for not telling her about it, and Harvey minutely shrunk back as he took a breath. "Look, point being: something definitely happened to him down there, and, well, I don't think that it's anything of this world."

Sabrina chuckled nervously. "Look, Harvey... I mean come on, is demonic possession even really a thing? That just sounds crazy, right guys?"

Instead of chuckling, Roz actually looked... unsure? "Actually, there's something else," she said. "Um... This is probably gonna sound a bit crazy, but... I saw him. I saw Uncle Jesse, in my house last night, and... he was saying horrible things, to me, about me..."

Harvey's eyes widened. "Yeah. Me too."

"Same," Susie whispered.

Sabrina swallowed nervously for the third time. "Come on guys. Maybe... maybe it was all just nightmares?"

Harvey looked at her like she was insane. But, she ignored him for the moment. "Look, whatever is going on, whatever is wrong with your uncle, just promise me that you won't go back in there, okay Susie?"

Susie chuckled nervously. 'Trust me, wild horse could not drag me back in there."

As Roz and Susie left though, Sabrina and Harvey hung back. "What was all that about?" Harvey whispered.

"I could ask you the same thing!" Sabrina whispered back. 'Why didn't you tell me about how it threatened to eat your soul? Demons don't make that kind of threat lightly. Also, were you trying to get them involved"?"

"Like I said, I didn't want to worry you, especially after what happened last night. Besides, I hate keeping them in the dark about this. Don't you think that maybe we should tell them... about everything?"

Sabrina sighed. "Look, it was one thing, telling you, but them? This world, my world, it's dangerous Harvey. You were already a part of it the moment you saw that thing down in the mines, but they don't have to be a part of it. Not unless there is no other option."

Harvey seemed to chew on that for a moment and then sighed. "Fine. You're right... So, what do we do?"

Sabrina shrugged. "We can probably talk to Mr. Wednesday about this. he might know what to do. Then, maybe I can broach the subject with my aunts? I know it's not much, but it's the best I can think of at the moment."

"... Okay. We'll do that."

As he stood up to leave, he paused. "Look... I'm sorry for not telling you earlier. Like I said... I didn't want to worry you. You have enough on your plate as it is."

Sabrina gave him a small smile and held his hand. "I know."

They stayed like that, holding the other's hand for a long moment.

* * *

Mr. Wedneadsy looked at Harvey and Sabrina, pipe smoke swirling around his head. "A demon possession. Are you two absolutely certain?"

Sabrina tilted her hand back and forth. "We're... we're not really sure, but... it probably is."

Their history teacher nodded, before taking another puff as he leaned back slightly in his chair. "If it is one, then there is reason to be concerned."

"Why?"

"There are types of demons that do not possess a purely physical form. They require a vessel in order to interact with the mortal world, usually to cause endless amounts of unholy havoc."

"So... what do we do?" Harvey asked.

"That is a difficult question to answer. First, we must discover the demon's true name. Then... it will have to be exorcised."

"How?"

Mr. Wednesday smirked. "How else? We get a priest."

A priest? "A priest?"

"Yes. I do believe that there is one, here in Greendale, correct? Right, so, here is what we will do first, beforehand; The two of you will meet me at my room at the Nameless inn later this evening. From there, we will discuss our battle strategy with Touko, who has a good deal of knowledge in these matters. See you then. Good day."

* * *

_Later, Putnam Residence_

Sabrina entered the kitchen, to find Aunt Hilda making jars of lemon curd, while Aunt Zelda smoked a cigar.

Aunt Hilda looked up from the lemon she was grating and gave Sabrina a warm smile. 'Hello love. How was school?"

Sabrina shrugged. "Fine, except for the fact that Susie's uncle Jesse has been possessed by a demon."

For some reason, they did not seem shocked by that statement. "Oh? How do you know that?" Aunt Hilda asked, offhandedly.

"Oh, only from all my mortal friends. While I was at the academy, or while I was dealing with that dream demon that attacked us, Uncle Jesse attacked Harvey. they had to restrain him."

Aunt Zelda looked over her newspaper with a scoff, smoke trailing from her nostrils. "Oh please. Sabrina, cases of bonafide possession by demons are actually astronomically rare, despite the disgusting propaganda that the False God and his church might spew otherwise."

As Sabrina lightly glared at her aunt, Aunt Hilda cleared her throat. "Has the family called a doctor yet? Because, if I were the, then they should probably try to rule out any and all other possibilities first. Like epilepsy, or schizophrenia... or Tourette's."

Sabrina had to fight the urge to groan and roll her eyes and took a deep breath. "In case you haven't realized, Aunties, my friends are talking about demons. My _mortal_ friends. And, you know how imaginative mortals can be. What if they started to talk about witches next?"

That caught their attention, and Aunt Zelda flipped down her newspaper. "I mean, the whole coven might end up being exposed," Sabrina finished.

"And who, exactly, is talking about witches?" Aunt Zelda asked, smoke now billowing from her mouth. "Give me their names, and I'll make quite sure that they are unable to talk about anything anymore. Permanently."

She then lightly smirked. 'Oh, but it is just such a tragedy, whenever teenagers fall into sudden comas, and in the prime of their life no less. Wouldn't you agree, Hilda dear?"

Aunt Hilda murmured out a half-response.

Trying her best not to let the mage of a comatose Harvey in a hospital bed shake her resolve, Sabrina continued on. "Look, Susie is my friend, and no way in hell am I just going to leave her in a house with a dangerous, possibly possessed man."

Aunt Zelda looked thoughtful for a moment as she sucked on her cigar. Then, she spoke. "We are not to involve ourselves in mortal affairs, but... tell your little friend not to touch the inhabited person. Any such contact, even as innocuous as a light brush of the hand, it will make them vulnerable to attacks."

What?

"Wh-wh-what sort of attacks?" Sabrina stammered out.

Zelda looked back up from her newspaper. "...Psychological. A demon's bread and butter are the fears, inner torments, and shames of mortals. It's honestly like cocaine to them, they can't get enough of it."

...

... Shit. "...Harvey, Roz, and Suse had to tie him to his bed. They all touched him, and they've all had visions or visitations since then."

Aunt Hilda simply shrugged. 'Well, then all you have to do is get them to bathe in the blessed waters from the sea of Galilee. That always does the trick."

This time, Sabrina groaned in exasperation. "Well... can't we do something? Maybe... I don't know... exorcise him?"

That word really caught their attention. Aunt Zelda _slammed _down her paper, while Aunt Hilda looked shocked.

"Sabrina!" Aunt Zelda thunderously declared. "That is a disgusting word that I never wish to hear in the house again. Am I understood?"

Taken aback by her aunt's rage, Sabrina nodded.

Then, with a sigh, Aunt Zelda returned to her paper. "Besides, Demons are considered sacred creatures, and it is considered an honor to be possessed by one, whether you be mortal and witch. To... _extract _one from a host, willing or unwilling, is considered nothing less than heresy. Now, there will be no more talk of this. Am I understood?"

Sabrina opened her mouth to argue- "Am I understood?" Aunt Zelda repeated.

Seeing as she was not going to win this one, Sabrina could do naught but nod.

Then, she turned on her heel and walked up to her room.

Maybe Mr. Wednesday would be more helpful...

* * *

_Later, Mr. Wednesday's room at the Nameless inn, Evening._

_Room 339_

Mr. Wednesday opened to the door for Harvey and Sabrina. "Excellent. You have arrived. Come in, come in."

Sabrina had never had an occasion to visit the Nameless inn, which had apparently been one of the first inns ever built in Greendale, but, she had to admit that Mr. Wednesday's room looked gorgeous.

But, this was no time to admire the decor.

The three gathered in the bedroom, where Touko was lounging on the bed, walking past the writing desk full of papers.

Oddly enough, even in the room, Mr. Wednesday still wore his full set of clothing, even his gloves. Tough, he kept his hat off, leaving the strange rock in his temple to glimmer dimly in the light of the room's lamps.

Sabrina then took a deep breath. "Right, so what's the plan."

Mr. Wednesday cleared his throat. "First, it is or paramount importance that we learn this demon's name. Without a name, it cannot be forced to eject from a host... not without irreversible consequences at least, which I assume that we will want to avoid, yes?"

Sabrina nodded. "So, how do we find that out?"

Ms. Aozaki chuckled. "Well, we could always torture it with holy water, or salt. That's always fun."

Mr. Wednesday leveled a sidelong glance at her. "Now, now, Touko. Let's not indulge our baser instincts just yet. There might be a... simpler way of determining our adversary's name."

"How?" Harvey asked.

"Simple. We head into the mines."

Sabrina saw Harvey's face turn as white as a sheet. "The... the mines?"

"Yes," Mr. Wednesday continued. "It is highly likely that the demon was imprisoned there at some point before poor Mr. Putnam accidentally freed it. If we find what remains of its prison, it should provide us with at least a clue to the beast's true name."

Harvey looked like he was about a second from hyperventilating. Mr. Wednesday looked at him with worry. "My boy, are you alright? What's wrong?"

Harvey took a few shaky breaths. "I... Sorry. I just... had a bad experience in the mines."

Mr. Wednesday nodded in understanding, while Ms. Aozaki snorted in derision. "I understand, my boy. In that case, there is no reason for you to come. Sabrina and I will be more than sufficient-"

"No," Harvey interjected, shaking his head. "No, you two won't be able to get into the mines without me. If you guys can get past security, then you still have to find your ways through the mines. Even with magic, it's like a labyrinth down there."

Mr. Wednessday sighed and set a gentle hand on Harvey's shoulder. "My boy, understand that there is nothing wrong with deciding to sit this out. Still, any help you can give us would be most appreciated. All we need is the location where Jesse Putnam was working. You can sit this out, if you feel that you must."

That made Harvey look back up with... anger?

With a slight snarl, he pushed off Mr. Wednesday's hand. "What, do you think I'm some kind of chicken shit or something?"

Mr. Wednesday raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "Of course not, Mr. Kinkle. Nothing of the sort. It takes a brave man to admit when they are afraid, and only cowards will say that they are fearless. You, my boy, have never struck me as a coward."

The seemed to calm Harvey down a bit, and he took a deep breath, before looking up with determination in his eyes. "Well, in that case... you and Sabrina are going to need someone to help you sneak into the mines."

Sabrina took his hand. "You sure, Harvey?"

Harvey gave her a small grin as he gently squeezed her hand. "Yeah... I'm sure, 'Brina."

Mr. Wednesday smiled and clapped his gloved hands together. "Excellent. Then we shall head out. The two of you head downstairs, and I shall meet you there momentarily."

* * *

As the two teenagers filed out of the room, Wednesday turned to Touko, who had lit up a new cigarette. "I assume that you felt it as well?"

The magician nodded. "I could practically smell it on him. Demon's got some hooks in his brain, and I would assume that the same goes for the girl's other two friends."

Wednesday nodded and then smiled. "Excellent. It just makes things a bit more interesting."

* * *

_Later, Greendale Coal mines_

Mr. Wednesday snapped his fingers and a small coin of light hovered over his shoulder, while Sabrina and Harvey turned on their flashlights.

Sabrina had never been in the mines, but, the moment they approached the entrance, she could tell that there was something... wrong about them.

Something evil.

As they all took a step forward, Harvey exhaled. Sabrina turned to look at him. "Look, if you want to wait here...'

Harvey shook his head. "No. hell no. I have to do this."

With that, he lifted his chin and strode past Sabrina and Mr. Wednesday into the mines. After a split second of befuddlement, they followed behind him.

Soon enough, they were twisting and turning through the mines, as if it were a macabre labyrinth.

It was odd but, the deeper they went, the more the feeling of utter wrong escalated. Overhead, they heard the screech of bats.

Deeper, and deeper did they go, their lights the only true illumination.

Finally, Harvey broke the silence. "So... what exactly are we looking for?"

"Anything that looks unusual; anything that gives off a sense of unnaturalness, or even just a general... evil," Mr. Wednesday replied, as he ran a gloved hand against the stone walls.

"So... the whole mine, then?" Harvey asked.

Sabrina could not help but chuckle a bit. "Well, glad to see that you haven't lost your sense of humor."

When he did not return the chuckle, Sabrina realized that he was being serious. H must have been terrified, and yet... he was still here.

Sabrina then aimed her flashlight at a pile of rocks.

Wait...

She bent down for a closer look.

"What is it?" Mr. Wednesday asked as he stood by her.

It looked like a small stone had been slipt in two, but... no, it had been carved.

Sabrina held up the two pieces. When put together, the two pieces formed the image of a twisting snake.

"Well, it would appear we have found the demon's former prison," Mr. Wednesday said, as he gently took the pieces from Sabrina to examine them.

Sabrina dusted off her hands and stood up. "Hey, Harvey, I think we found something!"

He did not reply. "...Harvey?"

She and Mr. Wednesday looked back.

Harvey was gone.

Oh no.

"Harvey! Harvey, where are you?"

"Calm down, my dear. We will find him," Mr. Wednesday said.

"How? He could be anywhere, and this mine is like a freaking maze."

Mr. Wednesday's eyes twinkled, and he put the two pieces of stone in the bag that he had brought with him. "Perhaps, it is time for another lesson. Watch and learn. This is a simple tracking rune. It will help us find him.

He then raised a gloved hand. As his circuits gently glowed, he traced a symbol in the air that looked like an 'F' with both prongs angled downwards. As it floated there in the air, he turned to her. "Now, you do the same. This is the rune, Ansuz. Trace it in the air, and think of finding Mr. Kinkle. Hurray now. Tow will be better than one.

Sabrina did not feel like this was the time for a lesson, but, figured that, if it would help, then who was she to argue?

She closed her eyes, and raised her finger, thinking of Harvey as she did so.

Her circuits warmed, and the tip of her finger felt warm as well, as she blindly traced the rune into the air. When she opened her eyes, there it was gently floating in front of her.

Mr. Wednesday smiled. "Now, say its name. _Ansuz."_

Sabrina took a deep breath. "... _Ansuz."_

The moment she said the word, the two runes suddenly merged, and formed a larger version, with it glowing as gently as a star in a lantern. Then, it began to float away, towards one of the adjoining shafts. Needing no further explanation, Mr. Wednesday and Sabrina hurriedly followed behind it.

As the did, they suddenly heard Harvey scream out, in terror! "SABRINA! MR. WEDNESDAY! SABRINA! HELP!"

Faster and faster did the rune speed away, and faster and faster did Mr. Wednesday and Sabrina follow behind it, through twists and turns, up and down.

Finally, as they turned a corner, they found him.

Harvey was crouched down against the mine wall, his flashlight left at his feet.

He was shivering and shaking, and he was as pale as paper. He almost sounded like he was hyperventilating

Sabrina knelt by his side. "Harvey? What's wrong? What is it?"

He seemed to calm down a bit at her touch, but he still could not speak. All he did was raise a shaking hand, and point around the corner.

Mr. Wednesday and Sabrina followed to where he was pointing. The moment Sabrina looked, she felt a powerful, overwhelming sensation of evil, pouring down all around her.

Carved into the wall was an image of the Dark One, in his goat-headed form. It hurt even to look upon it for too long. "What... what is that?"

Mr. Wednesday unflinchingly examined the carving with distaste. "It's an altar, desecrated in the Dark One's name. They do that by spilling the blood of 6 Christian virgins upon it, preferably the blood of children."

He then turned to Sabrina, who was slowly getting Harvey to his feet. "Come. We have to get him away from this thing before it overwhelms him in its entirety. But first..."

Mr. Wednesday raised both hands and drew two runes in the air. One looked like a three-pronged 'Y', and the other an 'H.'

The two runes slammed into the statue, and, as they did, the evil feeling seemed to abate.

Mr. Wednesday then slipped his arm around Harvey's other shoulder, and the three of them all but ran out of the mines. "What did you do?" Sabrina asked, as they went out the mines, and towards Mr. Wednesday's car.

The minute they were out in the fresh air, Harvey seemed to feel better, and he took several long, gulping breathes as if he had been underwater for hours on end.

"_Algiz_, for protection, to keep any who enter the mines again from whatever other evil sleeps in those mines, and _Hagalaz_, to slowly destroy it. Still, it will only be a stop-gap measure. There is palpable and vile darkness lurking in those mines, and one day, it will have to be cleansed," Mr. Wednesday replied, as he opened the car.

The ride back was spent in silence until Harvey finally spoke up again. "So... did you find anything?"

In the rear-view mirror, Mr. Wednesday smiled. "Indeed we did, my boy. Indeed we did..."

* * *

_Wednesday, November 12_

_Putnam Residence_

The doctor had arrived several minutes ago.

Susie had thought it would be a medical kind, but, for some reason, he had called a psychiatrist.

Now, he and her dad were sitting in the living room... talking, while Susie watched from the stairwell.

Dad rubbed his large hands together, and let out a heavy sigh. "it's strange but... part of me always figured it would come to this, ever since he came back from the mines like... like that."

The doctor nodded as if he understood. "I know that this is a difficult decision, Mr. Putnam, but your brother... the kind of help that he requires, immediate, round-the-clock care... it won't be here. But, I can assure you that our facility will be able to provide that, and more. He will be well taken care of."

"I just... I just don't want him suffering."

"I understand that Mr. Putnam, I do." The doctor then flipped through his notepad. "Now, if I recall correctly, the last time we spoke, you told me that your brother 'has always had "demons."' Would you mind elaborating on that a bit more? Perhaps any specific incidents that you feel I should know about?"

Dad sighed again and scratched at his head. "Well, there was this one time... y'see, Jesse liked to put on our mother's dresses. Course, didn't think there was anything weird about it, and us kids, we'd just laugh and have a good time, y'know?" As he spoke, Susie saw a small smile grace his weathered face.

Susie leaned in. She had never heard this before.

Then, Dad's face turned somber and sad again. "but, one day, our daddy, he caught Jesse in the act. He got so mad, he beat Jesse black and blue. I still remember Jesse sobbing at him to stop. I wanted to help him, but, what could I do? If I had said something, daddy would have just whupped me as well."

Dad paused for a moment and took a shaky breath, collecting himself. "...Well, after that, Jesse quit putting on momma's dresses."

The doctor nodded and scribbled something in his notes. "Go on."

"Well, aside from that, Jesse, he's always struggled with his... uh, sexuality. His... proclivities."

As she kept listening, Susie suddenly heard not-Uncle Jesse's voice, hissing in her ear. _"If only they knew. You're the one who's sick, ya little boy-girl. You're the abomination."_

Susie clenched her fist, as thunder rumbled in her ears.

With an angry start, Susie got up and stomped down the stairs. "What are you saying all that horrible stuff for, dad? What happened in the past, it's got nothing to do with what's happening to Uncle Jesse now!"

Dad looked up. "Susie, please..."

The doctor looked at her with surprise and confusion. "Is this your... daughter, Mr. Putnam?"

"What are you thinking? You can't just send Uncle Jesse off to some loony bin because he put on a dress once! For crying out loud, you don't even know why he did that!"

Dad stood up to his full height, and yet... he was not angry. He just looked resigned. "I'm sorry, Susie, but Jessie needs help. And... it's help that we can't give him."

The thunder still rumbled as Susie took a few breaths. Her fists tightened again. "Then... I want to see it. If we're going to send him to some sort of... institution, then I want to see it first. Make sure it's... okay."

Dad looked at her, and then just sighed. "Okay."

* * *

_Meanwhile, Greendale Optometrist _

The optometrist pulled the photoropter from Roz's face. She then shined a penlight onto Roz's face while examining her with a magnifying glass. Through it all though, Roz just felt... numb.

"So," Roz's father said from behind her. "What's the good word, doc?"

The doctor's face was somewhat somber as she withdrew the light. 'Not much, reverend. You see, as with most cases of degenerative myopia, your daughter's vision loss is progressing at a rapid and steady rate."

"But... last time we were here, you mentioned surgery, right? Is that still an option?" Roz's father asked.

"Yes. It's called a clear lens extraction, but I do want to warn you..."

Roz swallowed. "That my chances aren't good," she finished. "Right?"

Her dad put a tender hand on her back. "But, if there's even the slightest chance..."

"Daddy," she interjected.

There was no point.

Her dad sighed. "Would... would you mind giving us a minute, doctor?"

The doctor nodded, pity and understanding plastered across her face. "Of course. Please, take your time."

As she left the room, Roz's dad turned to face her, concern on his face. "What's on your mind, honey?" he asked.

She could feel the corner of her eyes grow heavy. "Daddy... do you... do you think that God might be punishing me?"

"Punishing you? Whatever for," he asked, as he drew up one of the stools and took a seat.

She looked down at the glasses in her hand, and could not help but marvel at how useless they would soon be. "It's just that, you say, all the time... Grandma Walker went blind... because she didn't have faith."

"Yeah, but, you're not like her, Rosalind. You have faith."

_"No, you don't, and you never did. All you have is skepticism and unnatural desires."_

As Jesse's voice echoed in her ear, Roz swallowed, and then looked at her father, as tears began to trek down her cheeks. "Do I?" she whispered. "Because honestly? I'm not so sure anymore."

* * *

_Nameless Inn, Wednesday's room_

After school, Harvey and Sabrina returned to Wednesday's room at the Nameless Inn and began to pour over every tome of demonology that he owned, which appeared to be a lot. Most of it went over and around Harvey's head, understandably, but Sabrina still gave him points for helping at all.

Finally, after an hour, she found a picture that resembled the carving they had found. "Found it!"

Mr. Wednesday took the book from her hands and looked upon the picture of the serpent on the page. It was a large, gruesome-looking thing, with veins of fire, and pitch-black scales and red eyes like blood. It looked like a demonic cobra.

"Apophis," Mr. Wednesday said. "That is... unfortunate."

"Who?"

"Apophis, also known as Apep, the Devouring One, the Malignant Serpent of Chaos, Duke of Disorder, etc, etc... It's a high-level demon, and it was worshipped in ancient times as a god."

Wow, that was a lot of titles. Still, now they had a name. "Well, now that we know its name, think we might be able to trap it back in the stone?" Sabrina asked.

Mr. Wednesday cast a sidelong glance at the two pieces of the carved stone on his desk and then shook his head. "Doubtful. A prison, once broken, is not easily used to trap demons again. Besides, I find imprisonment to be something of a horrifically temporay measure. No, to trap it again would be to invite disaster. With a demon of this caliber... the only safe option, for us, and the world at large... is death."

...

...

... What?

Sabrina looked at him in shock. "Death? Is... that even possible, killing a demon?"

Mr. Wednesday smiled. "But of course, my dear. Everything can die, and remember... anything is possible if you just believe."

Then he stood up and stretched. "Meet back here later, after your schools have let out. We will collect our priest, and then... we will exorcise, and kill a demon."

A thought then popped into Sabrina's head. "Wait... where are we going to find a priest that can do exorcisms? Cause, I don't think Roz's dad can do that."

The smile remained on their history teacher's face. "Well then, lucky for us, he is not the only reverend in the town, now is he?"

* * *

Greendale's Holy Mother church was a modest little building, made of red brick.

Sabrina had only been to it once, as a kid, and she did not remember much.

"Hello. How may I help you?"

One of the two priests of the church, aside from Roz's dad, was Reverend Josephine Anderson, an elderly, yet still fit, woman in her early eighties. She was rather tall, and kept her iron-grey hair in a long braid down her back, while her eyes rested behind thick spectacles. Her face was filled with smile wrinkles, and over her left eyebrow was a long scar that arced up towards the crown of her head. She was a kindly woman, though sometimes, she seemed a bit bitter and severe.

The reverend gave a kind smile. "Hello, Sabrina. I must say, this is a surprise. I haven't seen you here since you were three days old. Those aunts of yours never seem to want to bring you around."

She then looked upon Harvey and Mr. Wednesdy with a raised eyebrow. "So, what can I do for you and your friends, this fine evening?"

Sabrina looked at Mr. Wednesday, who simply nodded. Sabrina then took a deep breath. "We need your help with an exorcism, Reverend Anderson."

The woman chuckled. "I'm afraid that you've been reading too many horror novels, my dear. Exorcisms are not a real thing."

Before Sabrina could argue, Mr. Wednesday spoke up. "If it's not real, then, may I ask, why is a member of the Burial Agency doing in this little patch of small town, USA?" he said.

Reverend Anderson stiffened, and then her eyes narrowed. "... You are perceptive. But, unfortunately, I cannot perform exorcisms any longer. That particular talent... It is something I can no longer do. I don't have faith in it anymore. Now, please leave."

"But we can't. It's Susie Putnam's uncle! He's possessed, and it's killing him!"

"And why would you care, Ms. Spellman? From what I recall, your 'Path of the Night' thinks that possession is a _holy _thing."

"Yeah... I'm thinking about getting a second opinion on that, to be honest," Sabrina snarked.

The Reverend studied her intently, though she did quirk an eyebrow at Sabrina's statement. "That aside... why would you, a witch, even care about this man? Does he owe you anything? Do you want him to live, only so that you can make him suffer longer? Your _religion _does not exactly espouse altruism, after all, or self-sacrifice, or even basic kindness to strangers."

Sabrina shook her head. "No. It's... saving him is just the right thing to do. Besides... I don't think I believe in the path of the night, at least... not all parts of it. I remember some of the stories from the bible my mom would tell me as a little girl. But, anyways, Susie's uncle, he needs help! Isn't that one of the core tenets of Christianity!? Helping those in need!? Please!"

Reverend Anderson looked at them for a moment and then smiled grimly. "Very well. Take me to this demon. Perhaps I have enough left in me to save one more soul."

* * *

_Putnam House, later_

As they stood by the front gate of the Putnam residence, Sabrina, Harvey, Mr. Wednesday, and Reverend Anderson looked upon the house and the mist that was slowly surrounding it.

Touko leaned against the gate, the glow of her cigarette lighting up the night. "Took you mooks long enough."

"Now, Touko, be nice. We have a lady of the cloth present, and we should mind our manners," Mr. Wednesday chided. "Now, is the circle erected?"

Touko smirked and snapped her fingers. Very briefly, a glowing circle sprung into existence all around the house. "Don't worry... its invisible to the untrained eye, and it will keep anything demonic from escaping. It won't be getting out."

Reverend Anderson arched her scarred eyebrow. "So, the Wandering Magician herself is involved in this? I am impressed."

"Thank you. I am very impressive."

Sabrina cleared her throat. "Shouldn't we be getting on with this?"

"Indeed," Mr. Wednesday agreed. "Do let's. But, just one moment..."

He reached deep into his bag, and withdrew from it a long wooden club with a large knotted head, and then handed it to Harvey. "Take this, Mr. Kinkle. it's called aa Shilleliegh, an ancient war club used by pagan druids to battle and kill demons. You may end up needing it."

With a reluctant swallow, Harvey took the club. It felt light, yet heavy.

They knocked on the door, and Susie opened it with a confused expression on her face. "Sabrina? Mr. Wednesday? Reverend Anderson? Wha-what's going on?"

Sabrina put a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Listen, there's not a lot that I can explain, but we're here to help Uncle Jessie."

Susie looked confused. "Help? How-"

Mr. Wednesday raised his hand. "There will be much that will be explained in the near future, little warrior. But for now, we're going to need you to remain here, downstairs. No matter what you hear, do not, under any circumstances, go upstairs until one of us says that it's safe to. Do not verbally answer. Just nod your head that you understand. Now, do you understand?"

Susie wordlessly nodded her head.

"Good. So... shall we confront our foe?"

One by one, they all headed upstairs. Reverend Anderson led them.

As the approached the door, the reverend muttered a prayer under her breath and made the sign of the cross. Then... she grasped at the knob.

As she opened the door, and they all filed in, the demon raised Jesse's head and chuckled. "Well, well, well. Now ain't this lovely? A half-breed, a mongrel, a faithless servant of hypocrites, and... a ragged man. Such a feast of treats."

Harvey's grip on the warclub tightened.

The Reverend's eyes narrowed. "Why are you inhabiting the body of this man, filth of hell?" she asked

The demon reared up, the joints in Jesse's shoulder popping horrifically as he did so. "Why? Well, because it's just so nice and warm and utterly sinful in this meat suit!"

"And how exactly was he sinful?" Sabrina asked, despite the quick glare that the Reverend shot her way.

Jesse's head craned in her direction. "Because, he's a filthy, disgusting sodomite. An unnatural abomination. But all of that was just icing on a very convenient cake. My possession of him is his reward for setting me free."

He then sniffed the air. "I know of all who are in this room... save for you, ragged man? Why don't I know you? Why don't I recognize your scent, or taste your sins I the air?"

Wednesday looked at the thing writhing inside the man's body. "I tend to keep a low profile. But, I do know who you are, foul thing. Or rather, I know who you were... _Apophis_."

Jesse's possessed body twitched at the mention of the name. "Surprised that ya recognize me. Not many humans in this fucking country do anymore."

"Oh, but I do know you. Once, you were the Serpent of the Underworld, the great beast that devoured the souls of the unworthy, the god of Chaos and Darkness. Now look at you... nothing but the husk of a worm that is forced to crawl up the anus of any soul unlucky enough to come near you. It's honestly pathetic."

Jesse's face contorted in rage, and he strained against his bonds. "Ya got no right ta judge me, ya fucking ape!"

"Perhaps, but, then again, I do indeed have every right to judge you. It is the prerogative of those more fortunate to cast scorn and derision upon those who have fallen so pathetically far from their previous station. So, I judge you. if I could, I would even urinate upon your head, and laugh."

Sabrina and Harvey looked at their teacher in shock. That was... descriptive.

Then, the demon began to chuckle. "You got guts, all of ya... I think I'll eat your guts first, ragged man."

Reverend Anderson glared at him as she raised her cross. "You will be devouring no one, demon. Your reign of terror ends tonight."

She began to chant, and a strange feeling began to fill the air, like sunlight.

All the demon did was laugh. "You really think that you have any juice for that, Anderson? After Sixty years of inaction? After what you saw in the flames of Alimango Island?"

The reverend's hand began to shake.

The demon grinned. "So much for faith."

He gestured with his chin, and, a moment later, the reverend was sent flying into the wall.

Mr. Wednesday swiftly traced several glowing runes in the air, and sent them all hurtling towards the possessed man like bullets, while Sabrina attended to the fallen reverend.

As each rune impacted against the possessed human, he began to howl in pain and rage.

"You little pissants won't succeed! I'll finish eating this human up, and then I'll come fer one of yer little friends, half-breed. I might start with the mongrel!"

Harvey shrank into the corner.

"You will not succeed, Apophis! Your story will end here, and no one will ever remember you again!" Wednesday declared as he continued to fire off runes.

_Wow. Looks like you require some assistance._

Sabrina's head perked up. Great, now she was hearing voices?!

_No, you're not hearing things. I am real. No, don't answer aloud._

_"Who are you?" _she 'thought.'

_There is no time to explain that. All you need to know is that I can help you save this man. I want to help you. Do you want to destroy this parasite, and save its host?_

Sabrina nodded.

_Good. Now, look upon the demon, say these following words, and think of expelling the demon! Think of light and purity, and health, and belief! Now, say the words! Hurry!_

Sabrina calmly stood up, even as the demon thrashed about. Holding out her hands, Sabrina's circuits began to fill the room with a calming glow as she started to speak the words that the voice relayed to her, and each syllable felt as warm as the shining sun as they left her tongue.

_"I will kill. I will let live. I will harm and heal. None will escape me. None will escape my sight._  
_Be crushed._  
_I welcome those who have grown old and those who have lost._  
_Devote yourself to me, learn from me, and obey me._  
_Rest. Do not forget the song, do not forget the prayer, and do not forget me._  
_I am light and relieve you of all your burdens._  
_Do not pretend. Retribution for forgiveness, betrayal for trust, despair for hope, darkness for light, dark death for the living._  
_Relief is in my hands. I will add oil to your sins and leave a mark._  
_Eternal life is given through death._  
_— Ask for forgiveness here. I, the incarnation, will swear._  
**_— Kyrie Eleison"._**

Her circuits glowed brighter, and the demon in Jesse's body began to scream in pain as the body thrashed about. His mouth then extended unnaturally wide ass several more boils on his face exploded.

As smoke in the shape of a serpent billowed out of the man's mouth and eyes and ears and nose, Mr. Wedensday's floating runes glowed brighter. With a roar of anger, the smoke began to shoot towards Harvey.

"Now Harvey! Strike quick, and true!"

With a scream of terror and defiance, Harvey raised the wooden cudgel high and slammed it against the smoke. As he did, the wooden club glowed a strange mixture of icy blue and firey, angry red.

As the knotted head smashed against the smoke, the resultant _crack _echoed through the room, and the smoke screamed as more light poured out of Sabrina's hands. Over and over again did Harvey smash the warclub upon the smoke, over and over again.

Then, a moment later, the smoke dissipated, and the screaming stopped, as the light in Sabrina's hands dimmed into non-existence.

Reverend Anderson looked at Sabrina with wonder and confusion. "That... that was the baptismal sacrament. How could you have possibly known that?"

Sabrina looked at her, and then at everyone else. She shrugged. "I... just had faith."

The reverend looked at her blankly and then... she started to chuckle. "Faith. Unbelievable. Could it really be that simple?"

Harvey was looking at the stick in his hands with wonder until Mr. Wednesday gently took it from him. "Well done, everyone. Well struck, Harvey. Now, if you don't mind, I'll be taking this."

Wordlessly, they all headed downstairs, where Mr. Wednesday informed Susie that her uncle was now going to be better.

They all proceeded to file outside.

Once they were, Mr. Wednesday tipped his hat to everyone. "Well, my friends. I bid you all a quiet evening. Farewell."

With that, they all proceeded to go their separate ways.

After giving Harvey a hug, Sabrina headed back home. As she walked, she looked down at her own hands in wonder.

How had she done that?

And who had that voice been?

Still, Sabrina could feel the gears turning in her mind.

That sacrament, or whatever it had been, it was effective against demons.

And the Dark Lord was still just a demon, right?

She clenched her hands tight.

* * *

As a rule, Lilith despised churches. She hated everything about them.

And yet, tonight, here she was, stalking inside one towards her prey.

The old mortal Reverend was lighting a series of red candles.

Lilith had watched the entire exorcism from a mirror that she had enchanted in the Putnam house. To say she had been dumbfounded by what she had seen was an understatement.

How had the half-breed used a 'holy' ritual?

Obviously, this servant of the False God had done something. As such, she needed to be destroyed.

Lilith would have preferred to kill Apophis' now-former host, but there was no real need for that. The man was in no shape to reveal anything.

Besides... it had been a long time since Lilith had feasted upon the blood of a priest, especially a female one.

This would be short, and sweet.

"Greetings," the woman suddenly called out, without turning around. "Have you come to confess? Though, due to the fact that you are despoiling the body of my old friend Mary... I would assume that you have a great deal to confess... Lilith."

That took the demoness by surprise. "You know who I am?"

Josephine continued to light the candles. "In the flames of Alimango Island, as the island burned to cinders to cleanse it of the undead taint, each of my brethren and I saw how we would die, down to the exact moment, as well as those that would be responsible for it. For sixty years, I have been waiting, and that filled me with.. relief and dread. Relief at the fact that I would not have to carry my burdens upon my shoulders forever, while I dreaded the fact that I could do naught to stop it. that dread... it almost destroyed my faith. And yet... I could do naught but wait, and live, for these past sixty years, with the names and faces of those responsible forever seared into my mind."

Lilith scoffed. "Is there a point to these ramblings, slave of the False God?"

The woman finished lighting the last candle and then turned to look upon Lilith, and her eyes were filled with such intensity that even the Mother of Demons could not help but take a step back. "Despite your power and wrath, I am not afraid, Mother of Evil. Not of you, or your fallen master. I do not fear death... unlike you."

Lilith snarled. "I fear nothing, worshiper of hypocrites."

Joesphine simply smiled grimly. "If that were actually true, then you would have let go of life a long time ago, instead of clinging to it like a flea to the hide of a mongrel beast. Though I know when I shall die, my faith will no longer waver. Indeed, it has been renewed and even been expanded and enhanced, and by the hands of an odd little half-breed witch. When I die, I will die content... but I will not die without a fight."

She then stood up. "Besides... I shall not be dying this night."

As Lilith stalked towards the false priestess, power building in her hands, the reverend charged forward as six thin and glowing blades sprang from between her fingers. _"The Lord is my Shepard; I shall not want."_

* * *

_The Nameless Inn, Wednesday's room_

After stepping out of the shower, and emerging in a large fluffy robe, Wednesday set a small tray shot glasses in front of him and Touko upon the little table, alongside a bottle of unidentifiable alcohol.

She looked at the liquor with curiosity. "So, what are we drinking, and what are is it that we are drinking to?"

He smiled as he filled each and every shot glass expertly. "Mead, my dear Touko, the drink of heroes, for that is what we are, at the moment... Heroes. So tonight, we are drinking to three things..."

* * *

_The saving of an innocent's life._

* * *

Susie sat by her uncle's bedside, looking upon his dozing form. For the first time in months, he looked... at peace.

She was still not sure what Sabrina, Mr. Wednesday, Harvey, and Reverend Anderson had done (and a part of her really did not want to know, from what she had heard), but she was grateful nonetheless.

With a tired smile, he took her hand. "Hey, squirt," he whispered in a hoarse voice. "How ya doin'?"

Susie returned his smile and squeezed his hand. "I'm fine, Uncle Jesse. Just fine."

* * *

_Defiance and survival in the face of darkness_

* * *

Lilith stumbled back into the cottage, a look of such utter and total wrath upon her face that it could have destroyed an entire city in its intensity.

With a choked-off howl of pain, she yanked the burning blade out of her abdomen and waited for the wound to slowly, _painfully_, heal.

Damn her! Damn that fucking priestess!

Lilith may have had to retreat this night, but she would devour that bitch's heart if it was the last thing she did!

* * *

Josephine gingerly dabbed at the slash on her arm with rubbing alcohol.

She could barely remember the last time she had fought that hard.

It had been... exhilarating

* * *

_ And the death of something old and forgotten_

* * *

Apophis opened his eyes and hissed in disbelief at the black void all around him.

Dead.

He was dead.

At the hands of pathetic mortals and a half-breed and a mongrel.

Impossible. He was Apophis, the Devouring one! He who ate the souls of the heavy-hearted and the unworthy, who was formed from the very essence of Darkness and Chaos!

No matter, this was but just a temporary setback. After all, what was death to one such as him-

"I am afraid that you will not be returning from this death, Apophis."

The deep voice shook the demon from his ruminations, and he looked upon the new arrival with disdain. "Anubis. It has been a long time."

The ebony-skinned man nodded in agreement. "Indeed it has."

Apophis flicked out his tongue in disdain. "So then, are you here to weigh my heart upon the scales? Send me off to my final resting place? Because I can assure you, I hold no regrets in my heart for any of what I have done."

To his surprise, Anubis shook his head. "No, Devouring One. I will not be weighing your heart against the feather. I am only here to bear witness to your final voyage."

"What? Just what in the name of the Duat are you babbling about, dog-head?"

Anubis leveled a firm gaze upon the former god of Chaos and Darkness. "I am not the one who is meant to collect you here. **HE** will be here momentarily."

(**OST: O' Death, sung by Jen Titus)**

The sound of hoofbeats upon dirt echoed through the void, and Apophis' eyes widened in fear. He shifted his form into that of a human's and he grasped upon Anubis' collar in terror with trembling. "Please, no! You must be the one to take me. I am one of you! Don't let him take me! I am one of you! I am Apophis, of Egypt! I AM ONE OF YOU!"

As the footsteps drew closer, Anubis wrenched Apophis' hands away from his collar and pushed him back. "Once, that might have been true, Serpent of Darkness. But, the moment you shed your godly nature, and swore allegiance to your new masters, you ceased to be one of us. As I said, I have only come to bear witness to your reaping in respect to the memory of the deity you once were, _demon_."

A powerful grip then latched onto Apophis's neck and lifted him off the ground. As he involuntarily shifted back into the form of a Serpent, Apophis screamed as tried with all his might to break and slither free.

But the grip was immovable as a mountain.

Apophis looked with fearful eyes towards his captor.

It was a tall man, dressed in a black-and-pale three-piece suit, with a black-tie hanging around his neck like a noose. Upon his head rested a pale hat. On his sleeves shone cufflinks in the shape of a horse's head.

Apophis could not see the figure's face, save for seven red glowing marks around the area of the mouth.

The man's gloved hand briefly lit up with a red-gold-and-turquoise glow.

Then, pain, pain like that of being thrown into a cauldron filled with a thousand boiling suns lanced through Apophis' spirit as he began to burn. It was as if his insides were being torn apart with rusty knives and claws! His eyes looked down.

He was rotting away to ash!

"NO! PLEASE NO! NO, NO, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOO-"

* * *

Anubis watched impassively as his former brethren was reduced to cinders and ash and the echoes of screams. Soon enough, the echo of the screams faded away, and only he and the Pale Figure remained.

Anubis looked upon the figure as the Pale man flexed his now empty gloved hand.

The figure looked back at him with unseen eyes, the seven markings glowing harshly in the black void.

Despite himself, Anubis felt a single bead of sweat trickle down the back of his head, and he dared not move a muscle.

The Pale Figure studied the Egyptian god of Death for a moment longer, and then turned on his heel and walked away, his footsteps like that of a horse's hoofbeats...

* * *

As they each finished their third shot, Touko giggled. "Got to admit. That whole spiel about the 'Shilleleigh,' was great. 'Unbreakable warclub used by ancient druids to kill demons,' HA! Nice touch, there."

Wednesday smiled as he picked up the wooden stick. "Indeed. Still, the boy did well, and it was a grand thing... or it would've if this was actually such a stick."

With a swift motion, he broke it in two with a sharp _snap. _"After all," he said, as he idly dropped the pieces to the floor, "it is the person, not the weapon, in which the strength lies."

"Yeah, about that," Touko said, as she raised a fourth shot to her lips. "I've been meaning to ask you... I get why you're interested in the girl since she is... _spectacular. _But, her little boy toy? Werewolves can't do the sort of thing he did tonight. They can't kill gods."

Wednesday smirked. "In that, you are most correct. _Werewolves_ can't. Only gods can kill gods, after all, even if that god turned itself into a demon."

Touko's eyebrow raised and then lowered, and she started to laugh, and Wednesday joined in.

After all, once you get the joke, then it was very hilarious to think about.

* * *

**A/N: This chapter seemed to take forever to write, and I hope it's at least adequate. I really need to get this story rolling again, but, that's the trouble with college, I guess. **


	15. Chapter 15

Fate Ragnarok Chapter 15: Family and Tradition

_Directly after Jesse Putnam's strange and successful Exorcism..._

Hand-in-hand, Sabrina and Harvey walked up to her house.

"This is nice. Shame it doesn't happen as much as it used to," Sabrina said, as she looked at her boyfriend.

He looked at her in slight confusion. "What doesn't?" he asked.

Sabrina gestured with her free hand. "Us, walking home together. It's the nicest. Especially after tonight."

"Yeah. Best thing after exorcising an evil demon from the body of your best friend's uncle," Harvey snarked.

Despite the aforementioned events, Sabrina laughed a bit. "What a night. But hey, at least I can't complain that you never take me on interesting dates, am I right?"

That got him to laugh as well. It was good to laugh, after what happened.

Laughter was always the best medicine.

As they got closer to the house, Harvey spoke up again. "So, what are you guys doing for Thanksgiving? It's coming up soon. Or do witches not celebrate that?"

Sabrina nodded. Oddly perceptive of him. "And you would be right. It's really not that big a holiday for us. Although Aunt Hild and I do enjoy watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade, and Aunt Zelda enjoys watching whatever football game is on."

Harvey quirked an eyebrow. "She's a football fan?"

Sabrina shrugged. "Actually, it's pretty much all contact sports. Though, don't get me started on hockey. Then, after that, in the evening, we have Chinese food and old movies. It's like our own little Feast of Feasts"

"Feasts of Feasts?"

"It's like our coven's version of Thanksgiving. It's basically us giving fealty to the Dark Lord as thanks for helping us prosper in safety in North America, all the while making sure our enemies die horrible deaths."

Harvey nodded. "Huh... That's...neat."

Sabrina decided not to dwell on the Feast.. "Yeah... So, anyway, what does your family do?"

Harvey sighed, as the good cheer left his eyes. "Well, my grandpa is coming, which means several fun-filled days of beer-guzzling and deer-hunting."

If any more acid dripped off his words, the ground would have been sizzling.

This time, it was Sabrina's turn to feel confused. "Deer-hunting? Since when do you..."

"I don't. I honestly hate it. But, since I'm now working at the Kinkle Mines, honoring the "Kinkle legacy," they decided that I'll be joining the hunt this year. Joy."

Sabrina gave him a pitying look. "Well, just promise me that you'll be careful, okay?"

He smiled. "I will."

They then kissed.

When they parted, Sabrina looked up at him. Was he getting taller?

She kept looking at him. 'What?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Nothing... Say, you want to come in?"

He looked down at her for a moment. "I'd like to, but... after tonight, I think I really just want to sleep. Maybe tomorrow?"

Sabrina smiled. "Sure." They kissed again. "Goodnight, Harvey Kinkle."

"Goodnight, Sabrina Spellman."

After watching him walk away into the night, Sabrina headed up the stairs to the house.

As she did, she suddenly stopped in shock.

Nailed to the door was what seemed to be a wreath woven from various entrails.

A moment later, the smell bashed her in the nose.

Barreling through it, she pushed open the door. "Right," she called out as she entered. "Anyone want to explain to me why it looks _the Texas Chainsaw Massacre_ threw up and then nailed itself to our front door?"

Despite her entrance, Aunt Hilda, Aunt Zelda, and Ambrose all seemed... nonplussed about the mess on the door.

"Oh dear," Aunt Hilda sighed. "I'll get some soap and sponges."

Ambrose walked up to examine the strange effigy. "I'll get a bag. Best collect the..." he paused to wipe a finger across the entrails, and then tasted it. "...Huh, lamb entrails. Pricey."

As he walked away, Aunt Zelda scrutinized the gross wreath. "it's a message from the Council, Sabrina. As for its meaning... it would seem that our family has been selected to participate in this Year's Feast of Feast."

Later, they all were seated in the kitchen. "Now, as you know, my dear, The Feast of Feasts is one of our Coven's most holiest holidays. It is similar in some aspects to mortal Thanksgiving, I'll admit, save for some..."

"Differences in the menu," Ambrose interjected, earning him a dirty look from Aunt Zelda. "It's a ceremony meant to honor the single greatest sacrifice that a witch ever made to save her coven."

"Praise Sister Freya, may we all meet again," Hilda said, as she set a fresh pot of tea on the table.

Sabrina knew a bit about the holiday, but this she did not know about this. "Who's Freya?"

"A queen among all Witches," Aunt Zelda said, almost reverently. "Centuries ago, the 14 women belonging to the earliest incarnation of our coven, they were chased out of the township of Greendale. They were sent away, into the hills and the forest, and in the dead of winter."

Aunt Hilda then continued the narrative. "Now, the men of Greendale had hunted all of the animals. So, in essence, there was really nothing to eat."

"The witches, they would've starved to death that winter, all alone in the cold," Ambrose added. "Except for the noble sacrifice of Freya, the youngest and strongest witch in the coven. She, uh..." He then made a slight gesture with his thumb across his throat.

"Freya, without hesitation, slit her own throat and offered up her body so that the coven would have sustenance through the cold months, into the spring. Praise Freya!"

"Praise Freya!" Aunt Hilda and Ambrose echoed.

The dots connected in Sabrina's mind, and it took a concentrated effort not to throw up in revulsion. "Wait, wait, wait... are we seriously talking about cannibalism here!?"

Ambrose shrugged. "If it helps, it's not unlike the Donner Party."

That did not help at all.

"At its core, all the Feast of Feasts is is a demonstration of our devotion to the Dark Lord. In honor of the original 14, 14 families are selected from the coven to participate in a, uh..."

"A lottery?" Aunt Hilda ventured.

"Yes!" Aunt Zelda happily exclaimed, with a snap of her fingers. "A lottery! Each of the families then choose someone to represent them. It's a sort of tribute, as it were."

"And, of course," Ambrose continued, "only ladies are eligible because-"

"It's the Dark Lord's Will," Aunt Zelda finished, before taking a deep breath. "Right, well, in any case, each of the fourteen representatives draw lots, and the lucky one gets the honor of being made the Queen of the Feast."

Sabrina had an uncomfortable feeling in the back of her neck. "Uh... what do you get as queen?"

Ambrose answered swiftly. 'You get to be the main course."

...

...

... What? "The... The queen gets eaten!? And witches participate in this... willingly?"

Aunt Zelda swiftly nodded. 'But of course. Because it is tradition. A sacred tradition. As witches and servants of the Dark Lord, our obligation is not to question, but to obey and participate."

"But no one's starving anymore," Sabrina argued. "And, for crying out loud, we're talking about murder here."

It's not murder, it's ritual sacrifice," Ambrose countered, slightly weakly. "It's totally different."

Yeah, that was convincing.

"Anyway," Aunt Zelda said, as she started to rise, "since Hilda has been excommunicated, and Ambrose cannot leave the house grounds, that leaves only Sabrina and I as eligible candidates. So, of course, that means..." She took a deep breath. "That means that I will be representing the family at tomorrow night's drawing."

WHAT? Swiftly, Sabrina lightly pulled at Aunt Zelda's arm. "What? No, no, no, no. Aunt Zelda, you can't. I mean, what would happen if you get picked!?"

Sabrina looked around for support. "Aunt Hilda? Ambrose? Come on, back me up here!"

They pointedly said nothing. Undeterred, she turned back to Aunt Zelda. "We Spellmans are an endangered species. I lost my mom and my dad... I don't want to have to lose you too, Aunt Zelda."

Aunt Zelda looked at her for a long moment and then gave her a sad smile, the corner of her eyes slightly glistening. "That's a very sweet sentiment, my dear... but your aunt Hilda and I, we've participated in many lotteries over the years, and, for reason known only to HIM, the Dark Lord has never seen fit to reward either of us with the title of queen. A such, I have no reason to believe that this year will be any different."

Sabrina did not know what was worse; the fact that this ritual was real, or that her aunt actually sounded dejected that she had never been picked.

Aunt Zelda took a deep breath as if to compose herself. "So please, the Feast of Feasts is happening and, like it or not, we will be participating."

At that, Aunt Zelda took her glass of brandy, untouched throughout the conversation, and swallowed it in one full gulp.

Soon enough, only Sabrina was left sitting at the table.

...

...

... How could such a ritual exist?

* * *

_Later_

"You seem troubled, my dear."

_Mr. Wednesday's voice shook her out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see his concerned face. Ms Aozaki, meanwhile, just looked bored. _

_They had been training in Backstage for what felt like an hour, with Mr. Wednesday and ms. Aozaki. They had been having Sabrina practice the magecraft (not spells, magecraft, they were very adamant about the terminology) they had taught her, along with some new stuff, which included channeling the abilities of different animals, and firing compressed balls of air from her fingertips, like a gun. _

_along the way, she still could not help but think about what could happen to Aunt Zelda. _

"Is everything alright?" _Mr. Wednesday asked as he withdrew his pipe from his mouth. _

"Yeah, what's with the space-cadet routine?" _Ms. Aozaki asked, talking around the fresh cigarette in her mouth._

_Despite the two of them technically being heretics, Sabrina thought it best just to tell them. She needed to get it off her chest. So, she told them, about Freya, the 'lottery,' and how her aunt could get selected for ritual suicide via cannibalism. _

_Mr. Wednesday had a long, indecipherable look on his face when she told him and Ms. Aozaki about the Feast. _

_A moment later, Ms. Aozaki burst out laughing. _"Holy shit! You Nightwalkers really are an imaginative bunch, huh?"

_Mr. Wednesday shot her an irritated glare. Then, he looked back upon Sabrina with the same indecipherable expression from before. _"... My dear, I'm afraid that we will have to cut this lesson short. See you in class tomorrow. Goodnight."

_Before Sabrina could voice confusion at the sudden change in her teacher's attitude, he snapped his fingers, and the scenery of Backstage whisked away. _

* * *

_Monday, November 17th_

_Greendale High_

_Wardwell's Class_

The rest of the weeks passed without fanfare, and Mr. Wedensday was back to his somewhat jovial self within the next day, and he continued to teach her loads of new things in Backstage, though he refused to speak of his reaction.

Still, the heavy bearing of the Feast of Feasts weighed heavily on Sabrina's mind, though, a part of her realized that there was very little she could do about it.

The sound of Ms. Wardwell's voice then woke her from her thoughts. "It is now Thanksgiving week, class, and I would like to talk about you and this wonderful town of ours."

She stood up from her desk and began to walk around the room. "Your family trees, they all collectively tell the story of Greendale's history. So, while history is not my usual purview for this class, on the suggestion of Mr. Wednesday, I have decided to... branch out, as it were."

She then stalked down Sabrain's row, past her, and towards Harvey, who sat behind Sabrina. "So, that being said... how well do you all know your roots?"

* * *

As Ms. Wardwell approached, Harvey slowly looked up from his notes, and then did his best not to begin shaking in fear, as the evil scent surrounding her intensified, like rotting flesh and hate.

So much hate. The stench was just overwhelming.

He gripped the side of his desk.

Her eyes seemed to stare right through him. "For instance... you, Mr. Kinkle. When exactly did your illustrious family come to Greendale?"

It took a long moment for him to find his words. "I... I'm not exactly sure, Ms. Wardwell."

The teacher cocked her head at that. "Really? Then, how did they come to own the mines? And why?"

"Um... I don't know."

Why did this feel like an interrogation?

She gave him a tight smile. "Well then, I suppose you have some digging to do, as do the rest of you."

As the class became confused, Ms. Wardwell raised her hands for silence. "As a special assignment for this week, you will all be researching your family histories. I think it's about high time that we got to know ourselves, and each other... better."

For a moment, the stench intensified, and then she walked away, back towards the front of the class. Despite himself, Harvey let loose a shaky breath. "Class dismissed, everyone," Ms. Wardwell declared.

* * *

As school let out, Sabrina headed over to Mr. Wednesday's classroom, where, as usual, he was enjoying his pipe.

He looked up as she entered. "Ah, Sabrina. Come in."

She approached his desk.

He took his pipe out of his mouth. "First off, my dear, I would like to apologize for my outburst last week. It's just that the 'Feast-Of-Feasts...' it holds rather unpleasant memories for me."

Sabrina could understand that. "Was someone you knew... chosen?"

He sighed. "You could say that, plus, the whole thing... it repulses me."

"Really? Aside from the obvious... why?"

He gave her a sad smile. "That... is a tale for another time. Now, off with you. I and Touko will see you tonight."

As Sabrina nodded and stood up to leave, he called out one more time. "Good luck on your family project. You never know what you might find out."

With that odd statement, she left.

* * *

_Later, Kinkle Household_

Harvey was not looking forward to this.

Unlike most kids, Harvey did not really get along with his grandfather. While the old man did not seem to outright hate him like his dad did, Harvey's grandfather also never went out of his way to treat Harvey with much respect.

Still, this was for a grade.

With a swallow, Harvey entered the living room with pen and paper in hand and cleared his throat. "Hey, Grandpa?"

Slowly, the old man rotated his swivel recliner form the football game to face Harvey, who sat down at the living room table. Tommy was with him, for support. "Yeah, boy?"

Harvey swallowed. "I'm... I'm supposed to write a paper on our family history. Have we always been miners?"

The old man's eyes, small and mean like a bulldog's, narrowed as they seemed to burrow through Harvey's head, all the while he stroked his hunting rifle that lay across his knees. "Not always... Back in the early days of the town, when we were known as Von Kunkles, we were hunters and trappers. If it breathed, then we killed and ate it, and wore its skin for warmth."

He took a sip of his beer and continued. "Then, one year, there was this terrible, god-forsaken winter. Not to mention, those people..."

Harvey's head perked up from his notebook. "What people?"

His grandfather shrugged as he set the rifle down by the side of his chair. "Not sure. No one in the town really knew where these people came from, but they were supposedly an odd bunch, living on the outskirts of town and all. The townsfolk used to say that these people, they were tunneling in the hills."

He took another sip. "They claimed that we had stolen their land or some such things."

"And... and did we? Steal their land?" Harvey asked, an uncomfortable idea creeping into his head as to just who those people might have been.

His grandfather shrugged. "Who knows? But, the hill folk, they scared the townsfolk. Some even blamed the townsfolk for that terrible winter. So, one day, the townsfolk decided that they needed to... _leave_. That duty fell to us. Then, after the deed was done, and they were gone, their land became ours, and we made good use of it."

That uncomfortable idea in Harvey's head was becoming concrete by the moment. He fiddled with the pen in his hand. "So... um, what happened, to the people? The hill people?"

There were a few things, outside Sabrina's world, that terrified Harvey. His father's footsteps thundering up the stairs, the mines, and becoming an alcoholic, like his father.

But what took the cake for his normal fears was the sight of his grandfather smiling. It was not a normal smile, but more like the rictus grin of a corpse, partially due to the lack of laugh lines on the man's face.

The last time he had smiled like that, Tommy and Harvey had been stranded in the forest for almost a day, as a way of 'toughening them up.'

That very same smile was now on the man's face once more.

The old man smirked. "Well, you're comin' huntin' with us this year, ain't ya?"

Slowly, Harvey nodded, and his grandfather's rictus grin grew. "Alrighty then. I'll show you what happened."

* * *

_Putnam Farm_

It was nice, having uncle Jesse back to normal, though he now had to move about with a cane. Despite now suffering from a few night terrors, he was still more or less back to his jovial self.

Her dad was just happy having his brother back and made sure to hug his brother every morning. It was odd, seeing a man so reserved doing something so emotional once, let alone every day.

When Susie had told them about her project, Uncle Jessie had become very enthusiastic. The three then headed upstairs, where Uncle Jesse and her dad showed Susie a large trunk.

"It's been a bit of a hobby of mine, keeping track of the family history," uncle Jesse explained, as he unlatched and opened up the musty trunk.

Susie's dad snorted. "A hobby? Nah, more like an obsession, brother. Things most people would throw away, you just kept."

as the two gently ribbed at each other, Susie reached into the trunk, and pulled out a framed and faded black-and-white sketch of a man, standing in a field. He had short, dark hair that was under a wide-brimmed hat, and he was clutching a large scythe.

Uncle Jesse saw what she was looking at, and pointed towards it. "that there's Dorothea Putnam."

"Yep," her dad continued. "Now she was the very first of our family to make the trip across the Atlantic from Europe, and settle here in Greendale."

Wait, Dorothea? "Wait, Dorothea? But... why is she dressed like a man?"

Uncle Jesse and her dad looked at each other, and then gently smirked "Well, it was the frontier," her dad said.

"Yep. According to her journals, she lived by herself for a long while," Uncle Jesse explained.

"That she did. Guess she just figured it was... safer, dressing as a man," Her dad finished, deciding not to dwell on the implications.

He then reached in and pulled out several thin, leather-bound books. "Speaking of, these here are her journals. They're quite a good read."

Uncle Jesse snorted. "And how would you know? You never finished reading them."

As the two began to playfully bicker, Susie thumbed through the yellowed pages of the first journal, while possibilities echoed through her head...

* * *

_Greendale Retirement Home_

With a soft knock on the door, Roz entered the modest dwelling room. "Nana Ruth?" she asked softly.

The room's sole resident, Roz's grandmother, looked up from her knitting, and a bright smile spread across her face, showing her many, many smile wrinkles, as she spread her arms wide with a chuckle.

Roz smiled back. "It's me, nana. It's Rosalind.'

"I know. Come closer baby. Come closer. It's been too long."

With a happy grin, Rosalind embraced her grandmother. after a long hug, they separated, and Nana Ruth looked up at Roz, or, at least at the direction from where she could hear Roz's voice.

Nana Ruth's milky eyes were alight with warmth and good cheer. "Oh, bless you, you sweet girl. Bless you."

As Roz sat down on the adjacent chair next to her grandmother, she started to speak. "So, Nana... at school, we were asked to research our personal histories..."

her grandmother arched a grey eyebrow at her. "Really? And here I thought that you came to talk to because you was worrying that you didn't have enough faith, which is just preposterous."

Roz furrowed her brow in confusion. "How did... did Dad call you?"

Her grandmother looked confused at the question and then scoffed as she took Roz's hands. "Call me? Good lord, no. It was the cunning. The cunning always tells me what it is that I need to know."

Now Roz felt more confused. "The... the cunning? What is that?"

Nana Ruth shrugged, as if not sure how to articulate the answer. "It's... something of a hunch. A sort of sixth sense, resting deep in your bones, and it helps us to see things... things that most people, like your daddy, remain blind to."

She leaned in. "Now, my cunning, it started to manifest when I was just about your age. Which means that yours... yours should be starting up about now..."

despite herself, Roz drew in a deep breath. Upon hearing that, her grandmother's blind eyes narrowed. "... This is, if it hasn't already."

* * *

_Academy of Unseen Arts_

One of the annoying things about Sabrina's new schedule at the Academy was that some of her classes there fell in the evening, leaving little time for homework sometimes, and thus resulting in a few sleepless nights. But, somehow, she found herself being able to juggle everything.

For now, at least.

As the bells tolled for the end of her classes, Sabrina gathered up her books and headed through the main hallway towards the front doors.

As she did, she spied Prudence, Agatha and Dorcas, gathered in a huddle. They seemed... excited?

Curious despite herself, Sabrina angled her path towards them and slowed her walk. Agatha had a cheerful grin on her face as she shook her head in happy disbelief at Prudence. "I just can't believe that you've been chosen to be one of the fourteen tributes, Prudence."

Prudence scoffed. "Well, why not? all night long, I sat on my knees and prayed and prayed to the Dark Lord, didn't I?"

The side of Dorcas' smiling mouth twitched. "Well, yes, but so did I."

"And I as well," Agatha added.

Prudence tutted. "Now, now. Don't be so jealous, girls. It's unbecoming. Besides, there's always next year."

Despite herself, Sabrina spoke up. "Wait... Prudence, you're part of the lottery?"

As one, both Agatha and Dorcas spoke. "There were entrails on her bed, but she's always been lucky that way."

Sabrina raised an eyebrow. "Lucky? Hang on. You mean to say that you actually want this? You want to get sacrificed and eaten?"

Prudence's eyes were remarkably clear as she answered wit ha smile. "But of course. I want this more than anything I've ever wanted in my life."

Sabrina's other eyebrow joined the first. "But... that's insane. Why would you want to die?"

Prudence smirked. "Please. You wouldn't understand. You're only a half-breed, not a real witch. But know this; there is just no greater honor."

Dorcas then giggled. "Can you imagine? An orphan, being made queen."

"Indeed," Agatha agreed. "It would be the first time in the history of the Church of the Night."

Sabrina just looked at the three of them, at the smiles on their faces, and the joy in their eyes. The strange part was... they seemed totally sane.

Without another word, she strode past them towards the front doors.

Outside, she saw Rey, perched upon his usual step, and fiddling away on his flute. "Rey," she called out.

He looked up from his flute, a question in his eyes. "Aye? Wha's up?"

She sat down next to him for a moment. "Out of curiosity, what's your stance on the Feast of Feasts?"

He quirked an eyebrow, before spitting to the side in disgust. "Not a bloody fan, tha's fer sure. Whole fookin thin' is bloody mad."

Finally, someone who was sane! "Thank you," Sabrina said in relief.

Rey shrugged. "Matter o' fact, yer pa? He actually banned the bloody ritual when he was High Priest. Called th' whol' thin' barbaric."

Really? "He did? So then, why is it happening again?"

Rey scoffed. "Well, 'is 'igh and mighty self, Blackwood? He brought it back the year he became High Priest. 'Parently, 'e received a 'revelation' from the Dark Lord hisself. Said we had to return to the old ways."

Then, as he said this, a bit of alarm seeped into his eyes. "Wait a bloody moment... yer not a tribute, are ye?"

Sabrina rapidly shook her head. "No, but my aunt Zelda is putting her name forth... but, I'm starting to wonder if she'd feel differently about the feast if _I _were on the chopping block instead."

This time, both of Rey's eyebrows shot up, and he looked at her in surprise... and a touch of trepidation. "... Yer bloody mad. Ye know tha', right?"

Maybe.

But she still had to try.

* * *

_That Night_

_Unholy Temple of the Beast_

If there was one thing that Zelda did not look forward to when it came to the feast of feasts, it would be the dress that she and the other tributes had to wear. They were too tight, too heavy, and too damned itchy.

Still, it was tradition, and so Zelda went along with it.

Then, next to her, she heard a voice 'whisper' loudly to herself. "Oh please, let me burn white, Dark Lord. Please, let it be me"

Zelda rolled her eyes as she looked at the source of the voice. Mildred Milesborne was a tall, willowy witch with a wild mop of hair on her head (which added a good two-to-three inches), and small eyes nestled on top of dark layers of skin. Zelda never really liked her, as the woman was arrogant, annoying, and cruel to an almost zealous, jealous, and insane degree. The only good thing Zelda could conjure about her was her devotion to the coven and the Dark Lord.

Still, as said, Zelda found her annoying.

Zelda thus sighed as she heard Mildred's pleas. "A pleasure to see you again, Sister Mildred."

The tall witch only replied with a tight smile.

The door to the church then creaked open, and in walked Faustus, adorned in all his finery as High Priest. In his hands, he held a small, lacquered box, engraved with various runes and symbols.

When he reached the foot of the dais, he then turned and looked out upon the assembled witnesses. "Tonight, we are here to celebrate a hallowed and time-honored tradition, passed down through our coven since its founding."

As he spoke, he opened the box and began to walk down the line, with each witch withdrawing a single scrap of paper. "The Feasts of Feasts... it is a reminder that, given a chance, even the humblest among our number can be lifted up... that they can be elevated to the side of the Dark Lord Himself. Just as it is a stark reminder that the survival of the coven is greater than the life of any single, individual witch."

He was getting closer to Zelda. "So, tonight, my sisters, let us bear witness to the Dark Lord's Will."

Just as Zelda reached for her scrap, the doors to the church flew open, and then... in walked Sabrina. "STOP!" she exclaimed.

Amidst the shocked silence of the assembled coven, She strode up to Faustus. "I'll draw for the Spellman Family. Not my aunt. Me.

Zelda looked upon her niece in shock, her jew threatening to dislodge from its sockets. Dark Lord's Horns, what the fuck was she up to now!? "Sabrina, what in Satan's name are you doing?" she hissed.

Sabrina met her gaze unflinchingly. "What I'm doing is upholding a _beloved _family tradition, Aunt Zelda. As the heir to the Spellman family, it is my right... unless, of course, you want to admit that this whole thing is barbaric, as my father believed."

_Dark Lord's Horns, what the fuck was she up to now!? _

Faustus' narrowed eyes seemed to bore into her niece's skull. "Sister Zelda," he all but hissed, "is there a problem?"

As everyone began to murmur and stare at her, Zelda fought the urge to shrink in on herself. But she would not do that! She was not Hilda, after all.

...

...

...Fuck.

She let loose a resigned sigh. "No, Your Excellency. There is no problem. It would seem that my brave niece would like the honor of representing her family this year."

If Sabrina wanted to stick her own neck out, then Zelda would not lift a finger to help her this time. She began to step down from the dais. "So, Sabrina, if this is your wish, then by all means... go ahead. Select your paper, and take your _rightful _place."

* * *

Sabrina... had not been expecting that.

Did her aunt really condone this practice?

Still, it was too late to back down now.

With resolution in her veins, Sabrina took her aunt's place on the dais and then withdrew a scrap of paper from Blackwood's box.

Next to her, Prudence did as well.

Once the last 'tribute' had their paper in hand, Father Blackwood set down his box, and then looked over each and every one of the tributes. Then, he clapped his hands once. "You may burn them."

Slowly, as if the flow of time itself had begun to move at a snail's pace, Sabrina and the others inched their paper towards their candles.

Despite herself, Sabrina felt a trickle of sweat pour down her throat, across her faded robe burn, making an odd sensation briefly shoot through her skin.

One by one, they all burned.

Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow...

Sabrina looked at her flame before she cast it away.

Red?

Well, it wasn't yellow. So, she was safe.

Somehow, she heard her aunt breath a sigh of relief.

Then, next to her, she heard Prudence gasp in... joy?

Everyone looked and saw that Prudence's flame was... white.

She had gotten picked... picked to be eaten.

A moment later, the entire room burst out into cheers and thunderous applause.

They were smiling, and some were even weeping with joy, especially Agatha and Dorcas.

Prudence looked like she had just been awarded an Oscar, and perhaps every other sort of prestigious award, bowing mouthing thank yous. The other witches, they looked... disappointed.

Sabrina just looked about her at everyone in disbelief.

Why? Why was everyone so happy/ jealous!?

How could anyone want to be chosen?

She then heard the witch next to her whisper, "when... when will it be my turn?"

As Sabrina looked at her in dumbfounded confusion, everyone suddenly stood up and started to chant. "All hail the Queen of the Feast!"

As they continued to chant, Father Blackwood strode up and raised high Prudence's hand. "Kneel, coven of Greendale. Kneel before your queen!"

* * *

_Spellman Residence_

After a silent walk home, Aunt Zelda was now staring at Sabrina from across the kitchen table. "You stupid, arrogant, pig-headed child. Do you even comprehend just how close you came to being sacrificed?"

Sabrina stood tall. "In my defense, I didn't think you would let me go through with the thing!"

Aunt Zelda's eyebrow seemed to be trying its best to leap off her forehead. "Really? So it's my fault that you came up with this hare-brained scheme to play a game of chicken with me in front of the coven. oh my, but that is just so fucking rich."

Aunt Hilda hesitantly raised her hands in a gesture of peace. "Right, well, what's done is done. There's no point in arguing and screaming about what happened. let's just thank the Dark Lord that He decided to spare you both."

Aunt Zelda scoffed. "Not entirely. Sabrina here instead managed to draw the lot of handmaiden."

At that, Ambrose decided to speak up. "Well, small blessing there. After all, better to be the shepherd, rather than the lamb.'

'Which means what, exactly?" Sabrina inquired. "Aunt Zelda still hasn't told me."

Ambrose turned in his chair to look up at her. "Well, it's really quite simple. The 'lamb' is the Queen of the Feast, and the 'shepherd' is the handmaiden."

"Indeed," Aunt Zelda said, as Aunt Hilda poured her a cup of tea. "The exultation of the Queen of the Feast, it is the highest honor. So, for the next three days, while the coven is busy fasting and preparing for the feast, it is the handmaiden's duty to indulge the queen's every last whim."

...

...

... Fuck.

Sabrina then threw her hands up in exasperation. "Great, so now I have to pamper and spoil the bitch who left me naked in the forest, and then tried to lynch me. Yippee."

Ambrose then raised his finger, as if an idea just struck him. "Well, if it helps, be sure to spoil her with figs and wild berries, so as to sweeten her before the feast."

Sabrina had to fight the urge to throw up at the idea of that statement. "In no way is that even remotely funny, Ambrose."

He shrugged. "I don't know. I think that it's at least a little bit funny. Think about like this; Prudence will be getting her just desserts by literally becoming the dessert."

* * *

_Ding-Dong._

As the doorbell then rang rapidly and obnoxiously, Ambrose went to answer it.

He opened it, and in strode Prudence Night.

Huh... Sabrina had never said that her tormentor was so easy on the eyes. Truly, a vision of cocoa goodness.

She looked him up and down with dark, twinkling eyes. She seemed to like what she saw, and Ambrose felt the same way.

"Why, hello there," she purred.

Deciding to play along, Ambrose extended his arm to let her in. "Hello. And who might you be?" he asked.

She smirked. "Why, I'm the Queen of the Feast."

* * *

Apple in hand, and Salem on her shoulder, Sabrina walked into the parlor, wanting to put the events of the night behind for a bit, and then she nearly dropped the apple when she saw who was walking in.

When Salem saw Prudence, he began to snarl and growl at her, his flowery white, pink, and blue fur standing on end.

"Prudence," Sabrina said through grit teeth, as she raised a hand to try and calm Salem.

Her tormentor just smirked, and then snatched the apple out of Sabrina's hand, before proceeding to take a large, obnoxious bite out of it, and then slowly sauntered up the stairs. "Handmaiden. I suppose my room is upstairs? Good. now, I must say, I'm just dying for a warm buttermilk bath and macarons."

...

...

Buttermilk?

* * *

_Several minutes of filling-the-bathtub-with-buttermilk-and-rose-petals-later_

This was embarrassing, and also a little weird, having to wash Prudence by hand, while the bitch feasted on macarons.

Sabrina was half-tempted to dunk her head into the bath and drown her.

As if sensing her thoughts, Prudence turned her head and smiled at Sabrina through pierced lips. "Handmaiden."

"...Yes?"

"I think it's time that you did my back now."

Resist the urge to drown her, resist the urge to drown her.

As she started on Prudence's back with the sponge, Prudence smirked. "So, tell me, half-breed. Will this be your first time supping on the flesh of a witch?"

Sabrina stopped at that and leaned back in surprise. "What? I'm not going to eat you, Prudence. For crying out loud, you don't have to go through with this, with any of it. I mean, just between us, you don't really want to be queen, do you?"

"What are you babbling about? Of course, I do."

"You say that, but, I'm just saying; if you decided that you wanted to escape, then I would happily look the other way," Sabrina said.

Prudence scoffed. "Now why would I want to escape? I am the Queen of the Feast. Three days from now, I'm about to be transubstantiated."

At that, Sabrina paused in her scrubbing and crawled to look Prudence in the eye. "And what exactly does that mean?"

Prudence turned to look at her as if Sabrina was a simple child. "Well, after the coven consumes my body and flesh, then I will become a part of every single witch in the Church of the Night, forever and ever. But, you see, that's not even the best part. After I'm devoured, my spirit will reside in the Dark Lord's heart, alongside all the other queens, stretching all the way back to Freya. There, I will bask in the glow of his grand and glorious fire until the trumpets of the apocalypse are sounded."

For a long moment, Sabrina did not know what to say to that. "...And you believe that?"

The look in Prudence's eyes was dead-set and serious. "With complete and absolute certainty, half-breed."

"Right, but... what if that's not what happens? What if you're sacrificed, and then there's... nothing? It's just over?"

Prudence quirked an eyebrow. "Is _that_ what you believe, half-breed?"

Sabrina shrugged. "Look... I don't know what happens when we die. It's just... it's just impossible to know."

Prudence leaned towards her. "Perhaps. But I was not asking if you _knew_. I was asking what it was that you believed."

Sabrina could not formulate an answer to that, and so Prudence tut-tutted. "My oh my. How utterly sad for you, half-breed. To be so bereft of belief, to have faith in anything. That must be terrifying existence."

She then leaned back and reached for another macaron. "How pathetic."

* * *

_Later_

After finishing Prudence's bath, Sabrina was just ready to go to bed.

But, the moment Prudence entered Sabrina's room, she promptly claimed Sabrina's bed for herself, without so much as a by-your-leave.

Despite having to sleep on the floor, at least Sabrina had Salem to snuggle up with, as well as a good number of blankets.

For a while, she simply let her dreams carry her away, eager for another session Backstage.

But, just before she could drift fully off, she heard strange noises. They were coming from the attic. From Ambrose's room.

Salem's whimper of annoyance meant that he heard them too. He had not been talking much, lately.

Gathering her familiar in her arms, Sabrina slowly headed upstairs, the noises now sounding more like giggles and... moans.

For some reason, she did not stop herself from opening the attic door, so, at that moment she really had no one to blame but herself.

There, on Ambrose's couch were Prudence, Agatha, Dorcas, Ambrose, the boy that Ambrose had started dating, and one random guy from the academy... and there was not a single stitch of clothing between them.

Fingers... tongues... skin... other things...

...

...

... AGH!

Almost automatically, Sabrina covered Salem's eyes. She wanted to leave, but found she could not move, like her feet were bolted to the floor.

At a moment like this, Sabrina really regretted learning the technical terms for all the... parts that she was seeing in biology and health class.

...

Oh god.

Steeling her nerve, Sabrina cleared her throat.

Almost as one, everyone turned to look at her. Agatha's mouth...

No! Do not focus on that.

Prudence raised an eyebrow as if Sabrina was the one being rude and/or disgusting here. "What is it, half-breed?"

Sabrina gestured about with a free hand, while the other held a now growling Salem. "What is it? What is this? More to the point, what is everyone else doing here?"

"Simple. I invited them. And whatever the queen wants, the queen gets. Nothing is denied to me in the days leading up to my sacrifice."

Sabrina was dumbfounded for a moment. "... And you wanted to have an orgy in my house?"

"Yes. Now, either get in or get out. You're spoiling the mood, Shepherd."

* * *

_The Next Day_

_Tuesday, November 18_

After a nice breakfast, during which she had refused to make even partial eye-contact with Ambrose, Sabrina headed outside for some fresh morning air.

After finally getting back to sleep, and into backstage, Sabrina told Mr. Wednesday and Ms. Aozaki what had happened.

While Mr. Wednesday had briefly admonished her for being reckless, Ms. Aozaki had simply burst out laughing. That had been embarrassing. Still, in-between the bouts of laughter, Sabrina had learned a few new spells, among which included healing, and shooting a burst of energy like a compressed bullet, though, the latter had involved using a gem.

So now, Sabrina really needed some air. She walked outside, and the crisp November air felt fine against her face.

The moment was briefly ruined when she saw Prudence sitting on one of the chairs... in one of Sabrina's robes. She was sipping at a mug of hot espresso.

Deciding to act casual, Sabrina leaned against the wall and slapped on a sardonic half-smile. "So, Prudence... Sleep well?"

Prudence chuckled as she stirred her hot espresso with a pointed finger-nail. "Just like the dead, half-breed."

Sabrina took a long look at her, this girl who had never said a single kind thing to her in all the times they had met. She pictured her as she was now, and then Sabrina pictured her as she would end up; torn to shreds, and eaten.

Despite how she felt, Sabrina did not want her to die. So, she decided to try again. "You know... I've been thinking about you asked me. Just going over it in my head. And, honestly? I still don't know what it is that I believe when it comes to death. But, what I do believe is this; I believe that life, _all _life, is sacred. Even yours, despite the fact that you tried to kill me."

Prudence just smirked at that last bit. Still, Sabrina carried on. "Yep, all life is precious. Witch life, mortal life-"

"Eternal life, which is what awaits me after the feast..." Prudence interjected.

"...And there's absolutely nothing that I can do or say that will allow you to change your mind?" Sabrina asked.

"...Not a single thing," Prudence said, with an odd sigh.

Sabrina then shrugged. "Okie-Dokie then, if there really is no talking you out of this So, in that case..." With that, she started to walk away.

That seemed to get PRudence's attention. "And just where do you think you're going, handmaiden?" she asked incredulously.

Sabrina stopped and turned around. "Me? I'm going to Baxter High. To live _my_ life, as fully as possible, for as long as possible."

Prudence chuckled disbelievingly. "Excuse me, half-breed, but the shepherd is meant to take care of the lamb."

As she said that, a sudden, mad, and desperate idea crept into Sabrina's mind. "Really? Well, in that case... you could come with me if you want?"

Prudence looked at her as if she was crazy. "And just why the hell would I want to do that?"

Sabrina shrugged. "Boys. Lots and lots of mortal boys. To torment, and seduce... Or both, since that seems to be your thing."

That seemed to catch Prudence's attention a bit.

Sabrina decided to go for the kill. "In fact, pRudence, who knows? You may just end up finding the meaning of life at Baxter High."

Prudence was silent for a moment and then waved her hand. "Oh, come off it. You had me at boys to torment and seduce, half-breed."

In a single pull, she finished the rest of her espresso, and then stood up. "Well then, lead on."

* * *

_Later, Baxter High_

If there was one thing that Lilith had grown to loathe in her time masquerading as that heretic, Wardwell, it was grading papers and worksheets.

Though, the abysmal salary she was paid did not help matters either.

And they called her kind demons.

Then, there came a knock at her office door.

Lilith looked up and saw another disgusting thing.

Principal Hawthorne's greasy, reptilian face had on it a greasy, reptilian smile that he no doubt assumed was charming.

It wasn't.

With a sigh, Lilith removed her stolen legs form the table, and sat up in her seat. "Principal Hawthorne. What... can I do for you?"

"Oh no much," he said, his eyes roving over her stolen form, and as he leaned forward on her desk. "Just wondering if you had any plans for the holiday weekend? Because rest assured, you are always welcome at my house."

...

Was subtlety even in his vocabulary?

Resisting the urges to vomit and/or devour him whole, Lilith slowly stood up. "I thank you for your invitation, but... I have my own rituals. I order in."

She then gave him a tight, yet sultry smile, as a bit of bait. "So, perhaps some other time. When I'm in the mood for a... _real _meal."

* * *

_Meanwhile, Greendale High Library_

Harvey enjoyed this, sitting with Susie and Roz in the Library, even if all the smells about him were creating a bit of a headache. That was especially true back home, where the home was well and truly reeking of stale alcohol.

But, at least, here at school he could get away from all that for at least eight hours.

Then, a scent hit his nostrils, and it truly took all he had not to curl up on the ground in fear.

It was a scent full of cruelty, despair, and hatred. It was like whatever he was smelling off of Ms. Wardwell, only somehow... older?

It was getting closer.

Slowly, he looked towards the source.

Sabrina walked towards Harvey, Roz, and Susie. For a brief moment, the sight of her glow made the evil scent go away.

"Hey, everyone," she said, "I would like you all to meet someone."

She then gestured behind her, towards a tall girl with white hair, who was currently eyeing one of the turkey decorations as if she had never seen it before.

Harvey's eyes briefly widened. The scent... it was coming from her?

Sabrina cleared her throat as the strange girl then approached. "Guys, this is Prudence. She's my... cousin who's visiting for Thanksgiving."

Sabrina then looked at Harvey. "Prudence, this is my boyfriend, Harvey."

When the girl looked at him like he was either some sort of specimen or a piece of meat, all Harvey could do was just try to casually wave, all the while trying desperately not to run out in terror. Sabrina's presence helped.

Sabrina then turned to Susie and Roz. "And these are my two best friends, Rosalind and Susie."

The 'cousin,' looked at all of them, and gave a tight smile. "Very nice to meet all of you."

* * *

Prudence then leaned in towards Sabrina's ear. "You promised me boys."

Sabrina met her whisper with one of her own. "I wanted you to meet my friends first. Try to behave, okay?"

* * *

After that strange bit of whispering with her 'cousin,' (who seemed to be the girl that Sabrina had said had tortured her at that other school), Sabrina turned back to Harvey, Roz, and Susie with a casual grin. "So, what are we talking about?"

Susie spoke. "Uh... just about my ancestor, Dorothea. She was one of the early settlers of Greendale, and, as it turns out, also a pirate who helped a group of women escape religious persecution in Scotland."

Dorothea Putnam?" the girl Prudence suddenly asked, with a quirked eyebrow. "Fascinating. We learned about her at my school. YOur ancestor was a true ally to those women. A right a proper hero to the marrow."

As she said that, Harvey got a sinking suspicion as to the 'religious persecution,' that the women had been fleeing.

Susie chuckled at what Prudence said. "Yeah. So I'm discovering."

Roz then looked at Harvey. "So, what about you, Harvey? Did you find out anything interesting?"

Harvey snuck a sidelong glance at Prudence, wondering if he should say anything about what he had learned.

Outside, a slight breeze rustled.

Then, deciding that he would tell what he learned in as broad of terms as possible, he shrugged. "Yeah, I did... but it's kind of messed up. From what my grandpa told me, the Kinkles got ownership of the mines in a... a land grab. Apparently, they kicked out some people who lived in the hills, and then they just took over. Like I said... it's really messed up."

The girl Prudence was now sitting perfectly still, and she seemed to look upon him with cool disdain and something... dark. "Kinkle, you say?"

A bit a sweat oozed down the back of Harvey's neck as his hackles rose. "...Yeah. Why?"

She gave him a tight smile. "No reason. Just curious."

As she said that, Harvey had to resist swallowing in fear.

Then, she stood up. "Well, this was entertaining, but I must be off." She turned to Sabrina. "See you later, shepherd."

With that, she sauntered away. With a confused look on her face, Sabrina gave Harvey a quick peck on the cheek, and then rushed after her.

...

...

Huh.

* * *

_Later that Evening, _

_Academy of Unseen Arts._

During classes at the academy, Prudence made Sabrina carry all her things, as well as give her another bath. That had been fun.

Luckily, in her _magnanimity, _Prudence had given Sabrina a small break. At that, Sabrina had rushed off to find Rey.

This time, he was by the big statue, though he was still piping away on his flute.

"Rey, I need your help."

He looked up from his musical instrument. "Aye? wha' with?'"

Sabrina took a deep breath. "Promise you won't get mad? No matter what? I need this to be a favor. No take-backs?""

He raised an eyebrow at that, and then smirked, put a hand on his heart, and raised his other one. "That's a serious request. Fine. Ah swear upon man heart, and may I die seven times if ah don.'"

Sabrina took another deep breath. "I need you to help me convince Prudence to not go through with the Feast of Feasts."

The good cheer vanished from his face like lightning. "... Yer bloody joking, right?"

Sabrina shook her head. Rey actually snarled. "An' jus' why would Ah wan' ta sav tha' cunt's life? After wha' she did to ma friend!?"

He sighed. "Fine. But remember, ye owe me, Spellman."

He then looked about. "Have yerself and the three cunts meet me tomorrow morning in Greendale Forest. There's someone who might be able to help."

"Really? Who?"

"A woman who ran away from 'er feast."

Sabrina's eyes widened. "Really? Why?"

Rey's face grew somber. "It's cause she discovered the truth..."

* * *

_The Next day, Wednesday, November 18th_

_Greendale Forest_

Sabrina, Prudence, Agatha, and Dorcas waited in one of the forest's clearings.

"You better have a good reason for dragging us out here, Halfbreed," Prudence said. "There are still preparations I need to do for the ceremony tomorrow."

"Aye. Can nae 'ave ye miss yore marinading. Och, do ye 'ave tae be tenderized next? Cause ah'd be more than 'appy ta pound ye well and good!"

Out from behind a tree stepped Rey.

Prudence, Agatha and Dorcas suddenly snarled in unison, like beasts. "What the fuck are you doing here, bastard?" Prudence hissed.

Rey gestured to Sabrina. "Ask 'er. This be 'er genius plan."

Rey then crossed his arms. "Th' only reason ah'm doin' tis is as a favor fer 'Brina here. Any other day, ah'd happily let ya get devoured ba' idiots, Proodence! Buh 'Brina here? Daft girl actually want's ya ta live, ta not go through wit the Feast."

Prudence shot Sabrina a glare full of venom. But Sabrina stood firm. "Just hear out Rey's friend. She ran away from her feast. But, not to worry, this will be my last attempt. Listen to Rey's friend, and then, if you still want to go through with this, then I won't do a thing. I'll be your shepherd until the end. Swear on Satan's Horns."

In her mind, she crossed her fingers.

Prudence looked at her and Rey for a moment, and then sighed in exasperation. "Very well." She turned to Rey. "Well, lead on, Prankster Slut."

With a glare of his own, Rey then turned on his heel and began to walk. Sabrina and the others followed close behind.

Deep and deep into the forest they went, the foliage getting thicker the deeper they went.

They then came upon a strange little hut made from bones and wood and branches and leather skin. It was sat in the middle of another clearing.

There was smoke rising from the chimney.

Rey raised a hand. "Wait a tic."

He then pulled out his flute and trilled out a small, soothing melody. A moment later, out from the hut emerged an old woman

The woman was hunchbacked, clothed in old furs and trinkets, and leaned heavily upon a tall wooden staff. Her most arresting feature, aside from her rather bulbous nose, was her large left eye. Her eyelid could not even fully close over it.

Despite her visage, Rey did not hesitate to embrace the old woman. " 'Ello, love. Still going strong?"

The woman blinked her massive eye at him as she returned his hug, before giving him a snuggle-toothed grin. "I've been awaiting another composition from your flute, young Rey. I've been getting a bit impatient." She punctuated this by wagging a crooked finger.

He smiled. "Righto, dearie, but first..." he turned back towards Sabrina and the Weird Sisters. "Righto... this here be Dezmelda. Dezmelda... these four wanted ta talk to ya... about why you ran away from yer Feast."

The old woman looked over all of them with her massive eye. "...Take a seat then."

As they each took a seat on one of the large stones around the fireplace, Prudence then spoke up. "What is the point of this, Nardvos? Is she some sort of Heretic, who ran from the loving embrace of the Dark Lord?

The old woman glared at Prudence with her large eye. "I didn't run from the Dark Lord, whelp. I still hold Him close to my heart. No... I ran from the lies, and my High Priest."

* * *

_Meanwhile,_

_Dr. Cerberus'_

It was an average morning at Dr. Cerberus'. Not too busy, even with the holiday weekend just over the horizon. So, there Hilda was, in her Frankenstein's Bride getup, serving lattes and pastries, and just enjoying herself.

"So, this is your working uniform?"

Oh, Bael's balls.

With an irate sigh, she turned to face her sister. "Satan's horns, Zelda, what are you doing here? I thought that you were busy getting ready for the Feast. Or, have you just come to mock me?"

"My, oh my," came a smooth voice.

Hilda and Zelda turned and saw a man sitting at the dining counter.

The man was, in a word, lanky, with chocolate skin. His short hair was coifed, with long sideburns trickling down to his chin, and his suit was as purple as a polished amethyst. Set on the table was a small fedora, as purple as his clothes, save for his pocket kerchief, which was a bright yellow.

Ignoring her sister, Hilda put on a friendly smile and approached. "Hello, Sir. What can I get you?"

Instead of answering, all he did was look over her with strange, mocking eyes. "British, huh? Neat." His voice was what Hilda could only describe as jive.

He then looked up at the menu. "Let's see... what's the whitest thing on the menu? Cause I'll have that, but only as long as it's flavored with some cultural appropriation and just a tinge of racist bullshit and disingenuous political correctness. Been on the road a bit, and I am just oh so fuckin' parched, and oh so fuckin' hungry."

Hilda swallowed. "Uh, Sir, I'm going to have to ask that you not speak that way here. This is a respectable establishment, and there are children present."

He looked about. "Yeah, because you are just bursting at the seams with customers at the moment."

Hilda blinked, and, aside from her and Zelda and the man... suddenly, there was no one else.

Zelda immediately sat up. "What the hell did you just do? Where are we!?"

The man chuckled. "Now, now. No need to get your panties all twisted up in a big ole' bunch. I mean you two slices of vanilla cake no harm. I just wanted to have a bite, a chat... and maybe stretch my legs a bit. I mean, what with the holidays approaching and all."

He then rested his chin in his cupped hands. "Feast of Feasts," he said. "Mm-mm-mm-mm-MM! All that gorging, all the eating, all the blood! Looking forward to the big meal? Eating a queen... what a thrill that must be, am I right?"

Zelda looked at him. "Are you part of a coven? Are you a warlock? Is that what is happening right now?"

He laughed again. "I once was. I was a proud brother, still am, in a way, but no more. I disagreed with what they were selling, and so I split. I preached anger... and they just weren't angry enough. So now, little old me is a free agent. Lucky for me though, as the others soon all... faded away."

"So... you were excommunicated, just like me?" Hilda asked, as she set a cup of dark coffee in front of him, her hands shaking all the while.

He laughed a third time. "Such a pretty, neat, six-syllable word, for such a nasty business. Ex-co-mun-i-ca-ted. Just rolls off the tongue, huh? Man... you Caucasians and your need to make everything sound just so fuckin' smart."

He took a sip of his drink. "You know, I heard of you two. Zelda Spellman. Eldest of the Spellman Siblings, the blazing Sun. Then, Hilda, the younger sister. The meek and demure Evening star. The two of you are fuckin' famous! Second to none, bar their little genius brother, Edward."

He took another sip and cracked a knuckle. "Ah, good old Edward. A true forward thinker... for a white boy. Bit ironic, you celebrating the very thing he tried to get banned."

Zelda leaned back. "You... you knew Edward?"

He laughed a fourth time, and cracked a second knuckle. "Yeah, for a while, before he got his white ass murdered. Helped him with a lot of his ideas, which, like any white man, he then took full and total credit for. Helped him especially with his thoughts on this fucking holiday of yours. The Feast of Feasts."

He snorted as he took another sip. "Man. Bunch of fuckin' cannibal bullshit."

"Watch your tone, you impudent little man," Zelda hissed, while Hilda shrank back. "The Feast of Feasts is a sacred and noble holiday, celebrating the willing sacrifice of one brave and noble witch."

He looked at her, at her anger, and all he did was just laugh and crack a third knuckle, before raising his hands in mock surrender, his lip even quivering a bit for extra effect. "Oh, lordy lordy! puh-leese, fuh-give meh, missus. Puh-leese don' get mad wit me-uh fer telling the fuckin truth, that yer 'sacrifice of one brave and noble witch,' was complete and utter bullshit, in so much that none of it was ever willing on her part."

"What in the hell are you babbling about? What lie?" Zelda demanded.

The man's smile grew wider, as he stepped up from the stool, revealing his full and lanky height. "You know, you sound just like your little brother. He too wanted to know, and when he did know... well that changed him. I look at you, so proud and rigid and set in your ways, like a sharp dick, Zelda Spellman? Think you can handle what comes next?"

"Stop babbling, just get on with it, fuckwit," Zelda hissed.

The man took a few steps back, clapped his hands, cracked the fourth knuckle, and then chuckled, as a spotlight suddenly shined on him from out of nowhere. "Alrighty then, miss pottymouth. You two better buckle in, 'cause, it's time for a story."

He then cleared his throat. "Once upon a time..."

* * *

_Somewhere in America (Cairo)_

The building was stately, and elegant in a timeless-yet-faded manner, just like its residents, and just like the profession that it housed.

During a lull, one of those timeless, faded residents decided to indulge in his other profession and hobby. At first glance, the man seemed average and unremarkable, save for his odd, beak of a nose, and the somewhat dated way that he dressed.

Upon his aged desk, he set out a pen, a container of ink, and a large, leather-bound tome, the sort that seemed crafted with a built-in, musky scent of age, even when it was new.

The man opened the book and quietly turned the pages until he found a blank one. Then, after dipping his pen in the inkwell, he began to write.

_Mankind, in its infinite mystery and growth and age, has always felt the need to celebrate something. They will take any chance, any excuse, to celebrate and remember, be it long-ago victories over long-forgotten foes on some nameless and distant battlefield; be it unforgettable and unconscionable tragedies; or even just something as simple as having lived for another year. _

_Mankind's need to celebrate in turn eventually gave rise to holidays, those days of feasting and fasting and celebration and raucous carousing and laughter and tears and things. But, of course, ask a person why they celebrate these holidays, and each answer will be as different and unique as the last, to some variation. For, you see, dear reader, no one truly remembers the original, often darker, reasons as to why these holidays are celebrated, or even how they came to be in the first place._

_Take for example the Feast of Feasts, celebrated all across the North American Continent by the various covens of the Unholy Church of the Beast. Now, each young North American Witch and warlock are taught that it is to honor the fourteen witches cast out from the settlement of Greendale and to honor the sacrifice of one of their number, Freya, who bravely gave her life and flesh so that her sisters could survive. _

_A fine, and noble tale indeed, if a bit grim... and erroneous. _

_Now, It is true that the early coven of Greendale was driven out during that cold and relentless winter._

_Now, It is true that to survive, they had feasted upon a young woman named Freya, whose young, supple, and tender flesh allowed them to live through the worst of the winter. _

_But, here is where the stories of the witches get it wrong. _

_It had not been fourteen witches who had been banished from early Greendale, but thirteen. Thirteen, and not one had been named Freya_

_For, the fact of the matter is that Freya was no witch. _

* * *

"I... discovered this, in an ancient text," Dezlmedla said, as the girls and Rey sat before her. "What really happened, that winter..."

* * *

"When those thirteen witches were cast out, into the shivering cold... well, as you know, there was no food. No dry wood to make a fire. Nothing but cold and damp and snow and ice all around them," the man said.

"As it got darker, they got cold and hungry... and angry."

He smirked. "And when a person gets angry... they can get. Shit. Done."

* * *

_In the forest, apart from the main Greendale Settlement, there had lived an immigrant couple, who had arrived soon after the other settlers, from one of the many regions of Europe that were always termed 'The Old Country.' They were young, in love, hardworking, determined, and already had a nice warm cottage __built, and they had a lovely little newborn, cherubic and rosy-cheeked._

_The wife's name was Freya, and she and her husband had thought themselves ready for the winter._

_They were a kind and generous couple, who had not taken part in pushing out the thirteen from the town. _

_But that made no difference to the Thirteen. _

* * *

"So, when the thirteen witches saw this little island of warmth, and happiness and life, existing while they starved and shivered... they got even angrier. And hungrier.

"Like a pack of wolves, they stalked and surrounded the cabin, footsteps silent, even in the snow. Closer, and closer, and closer, they crept. Then... they struck when the husband went out to collect some snow for water. They beat him over the head, left him to bleed out and die in the snow, and then entered the home."

His smile grew wider, and a fifth knuckle cracked. "All through the night, and for three long days and nights, they did horrible, unspeakable things to poor, lovely Freya, for the crime of being happy, and warm, and fed. Savage things that would make even the most depraved monster and maniac throw up their hands and scream and puke upon hearing. Of course, Freya could not fight back, for the witches held her little kiddie hostage. Her cries of mercy and agony filled the air around them."

Hilda could not move, and all she and Zelda could do was just listen in horror.

"Then, as the sun began to set upon the third day, the witches, their hearts and belly and cunts now full and wet and sated from their entertainment... well, they decided to have one last feast. But, you see, they were still just so angry. In their eyes, Feya had sinned. And all sin... deserves punishment."

His shadow seemed to writhe into something monstrous and cruel, full of eyes and legs. Three more knuckles cracked.

"So, they took up their knives and cut Freya's child into pieces. They cooked those pieces in a stew, with potatoes and barley and carrots and shit. Then, they force-fed that yummy, savory stew to Freya, every last drop. After that, her belly now full of her own child, the witches descended upon Freya's naked form, slit her throat, and devoured her, to the bone."

He took a deep and somber breath. "So, on and on, was this ritualized throughout the years. Every year, one 'lucky; bitch gets chosen." He snapped his fingers. "One gone." He snapped again. "Another." Snap. "And another, and another and another. A direct funnel, from the womb to the stomach, destroying such life, such potential. And the best part? They are taught to want this!"

His smile grew cruel and mocking. "Now... isn't that a happy tale, with such a wonderful and nice ending?"

Hilda could not find her tongue. Such horror.

Zelda stood up. "What complete and utter nonsense! There is no way any witch would do such monstrous acts! Besides, that... _fable_ spits on the story of Freya's sacrifice!"

He just stared at her. "If I recall correctly, white lady, you once boasted about how scrumptious your roast child is. Besides, how is this story any more fucked up than how you celebrate it? You pick one stupid bitch, tell her that she's special, butter her up with her every whim, and then devour her like hungry rats on a sinking ship. Cause that's just so much better PR then what actually happened!?"

He chuckled. "OH man, when little Edward heard that story... he could not ban the Feast fast enough!"

He spread his arms out wide. "But, I can see you're angry, Zelda Spellman. That's good. Anguh'... Gets. Shit. Done. Besides, I did what I came here to do."

"... Was it really true, that story?" Zelda stated, with arms crossed.

The man looked at her and grinned and shrugged. "Who knows? But you see, that is the beauty of a story. That story could have been complete and utter bullshit, but you'll never really know. Now, there'll be a little, twisting speck of doubt, when you go every year, offering yourself up as a sacrifice, and watch some pretty young thing get eaten, all the while being told she's special. And every year, you'll grow more, and more disgusted, and angrier and angrier, until..."

He snapped his fingers. "Poof."

He then started to laugh. He laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed, and as he laughed, his head, it folded and sifted, and then, where his head was... there was a giant spider, multi-colored, with eight large eyes, and eight writhing legs.

And he just kept laughing...

* * *

With twin gasps, Zelda and Hilda woke up, their heads resting on the kitchen table.

To their shock, they were covered in spider-webs.

A moment later, Zelda screamed in frustration, making Ambrose jump.

* * *

"...When I went to confront my High Preist about this. He..." At that, the old woman finally passed, and it seemed as if she were on the verge of tears.

Rey took her hand. "It's all righ, 'Melda. Tell them."

Sabrina, Prudence, Agatha, and Dorcas all unconsciously leaned in, the story having shook them all into silence.

"...He tried to kill me. He tried to rend me, limb from limb, all the while gloating about how all High Priests knew about this, but none would believe me.. But, I managed to escape. I ran, and I ran, and I kept running. I ran until I came here. Then... I just hid."

At that, Dezmelda fell silent.

* * *

_Meanwhile_

Harvey hated guns.

He hated what they represented, he hated how they looked, and he hated what they did.

And yet, here he was, holding one, whilst following his uncle, dad, and Tommy into the wood, each of them similarly armed.

"Now, this part of the forest, it's where the Kinkle men have always hunted," Grandpa said. "They used to call this place moon Valley."

He shook his head. "Let me tell ya... I've seen some strange stuff out here."

After a bit more walking, Grandpa suddenly held out his hand to call a halt. He then silently pointed.

It... it looked like a stag.

It moved like a stag.

But... to Harvey? It did not smell like one.

Harvey's dad grinned and began to aim his rifle. "Now, that's a beauty."

Then, Grandpa gently grabbed the rifle and aimed it downwards. "It's the boy's first hunt. He should be the one to do the honors."

...

...

... Oh no.

Slowly, they turned to look at Harvey.

* * *

Prudence scowled at Sabrina. "Did you actually think that this would work, you stupid half-breed?"

...

...

...That had not been what she had been expecting. "What are you talking about? You heard her story! It's all a lie!"

Prudence shook her head defiantly. "No. No, no, no. This is all some sort of pathetic trick."

She stood up and began to swiftly run away, deep into the forest.

Sabrina rushed after her. "Why would I make any of this up, Prudence?"

"Because you're just a stupid, mongrel, jealous half-breed who has no respect for tradition!"

Sabrina crossed her arms. "You honestly think I'm jealous of being torn apart by cannibals!? Why are you so adamant about going through with this? If you do, then you will die! You will be dying for a lie, a lie that's being perpetrated by Father Blackwood!"

Prudence shook her head. "No, he would not lie, not to me. That woman is obviously some deranged heretic. He raised me like a daughter, cared for me, nurtured me. He is a good man-"

"Who is letting you die!" Why was she being so pig-headed. "Why do you want to die so much!? You're basically committing suicide over a lie! Just tell me the truth, Prudence! None of that bullshit about transubstantiation. Why are you doing this!? Why let this happen!?"

"BECAUSE BY MAKING MYSELF QUEEN, THEN I'LL KNOW IF HE'S MY FATHER!"

The forest seemed to grow silent. Sabrina's eyes grew wide. "M... making yourself queen?"

Prudence Night looked despondent. "I used a spell to fake my choosing. It was the only way. The only way to make him tell the truth. The only way to truly be loved."

Prudence's eyes narrowed. "What would you even know about me? Hell, why do you even care? You, with your actual family and your 'love.' You had parents. You have a family. I was born with nothing. Nothing save for Agatha and Dorcas. We were orphans and we had nothing. But Blackwood took us in. As such, a part of me always wondered. Tonight, I will ask him if he is. Then, no matter what, I will know, and I will enter the Dark Lord's heart ready and satisfied."

Then, quick as lightning, Sabrina suddenly found herself slammed against a tree, Prudence's hand around her throat. "Now then, if you tell anyone about this, I will kill you, and I make your agony last for _centuries!" _

Before Sabrina could reinforce herself, or even blink, a loud gunshot suddenly echoed through the forest.

* * *

From behind the tree where she was hiding, Agatha clenched her fists so tightly that blood dripped from her palms...

* * *

Rey, Dezmelda, Sabrina, Prudence, Agatha, and Dorcas all stood over the corpse.

It looked like a deer, at least partially. Jutting out of its chest and stomach were claws, hooves, and a demonic, horned face. "Wh... what is it?" Sabrina asked.

"It's a familiar," Dezmelda whispered.

"Yeah. Many live in Moon valley," Dorcas whispered.

"Who... who would even do such a thing?" Sabrina whispered.

Suddenly, she heard... Tommy's voice? "Hey, Dad! Over here!"

At the sound of footsteps, Rey quickly whipped out a ball of woolen string. "Strewth! Righ' all of ye, tak' 'old!"

"What are we doing?" Sabrina asked as she took hold of the yarn.

"Pullen' the wool o'er their eyes."

Once everyone had hold of the wool, having formed a pentagram around the familiar, they all stood quietly.

A moment later, Sabrina watched as Harvey and his family wandered into view, each holding a rifle.

They did not seem to see her, the dead familiar, or the others. The barrel of Harvey's gun was right in front of her nose.

The four men all looked around. 'The blood stops here," Harvey's grandpa said, as he pointed at the ground.

"Well, then, where the hell is the damn thing!?" Harvey's dad exclaimed. "For Christ's sake. It was a kill shot. It shouldn't have even gotten this far!"

"So... what do we do now?" Harvey asked.

Harvey's grandpa spat on the ground. "We keep looking, boy. I want that prize."

At that, they all walked off into the forest.

The moment they were sure the four were out of sight and earshot, Rey spoke. "Strewth."

At that, the spell was broken.

As he collected the yarn, Prudence turned to Sabrina.

Nothing else was said, but there was a silent fury in her eyes. After all, the murder of a familiar demanded blood recompensation.

Still, Sabrina could not believe it. Harvey could not have done this!

...

...Could he?

* * *

_Meanwhile, Greendale Retirement home_

"Nana Ruth?" Roz asked as she and Susie entered the room.

Her grandmother's sightless eyes perked up at her voice. "Yes, child?"

"Nana, this is my friend from school."

Though her face was turned in a different direction, Nana Ruth smiled and held out a hand towards Susie. "Why hello there, you handsome fellow."

What? "Oh, no, Nana. Her name is Susie."

Susie just chuckled. "Oh, no, Roz. It's fine."

Right, well, with that out of the way, Roz cleared her throat. "Nana, I asked Susie to come with me because-"

"Because I sacred you last time." Her grandmother finished."

Again... how did she do that? Roz swallowed and pressed on. "Nana... how did us Walker women... how did we get this... 'cunning?' "

Nana's face grew somber. "Generations ago... our kin accused a woman of being a witch. The other witches in Greendale, well, as punishment, they cursed us Walker women with blindness."

Despite herself, Roz gave an awkward chuckle and put a hand on Susie's wrist before her friend could speak up. "But, of course, witches aren't real, right Nana? Besides... what does being blind have to do with being cunning?"

Nana swallowed, her eyes slowly becoming wet with tears. "I don;t know if being cursed was what gave us this cunning, or if it just simply brought out what was already there, just waiting. But what I do know, child, is that you will lose your vision. But, with the cunning... I promise that you will be able to see things that others cannot even dream of looking at. And that... that will save your life, you have my word."

* * *

Outside, and across the street, Touko Aozaki looked up at the Greendale Retirement House. More specifically, her eyes were drawn towards the window of Nana Ruth's room.

With a final draw on her now spent cigarette, she smirked, dropped it, crushed the stub against the pavement with her heel, and then walked away...

* * *

_Spellman Residence_

As Sabrina trudged home, she saw Harvey's truck parked outside the house, with him leaning against it, head down.

He looked up at her, and his face... it looked despondent.

She approached him. He sighed and shook his head. "I really thought that this year would be different, that this time, that things with me, my dad, and my grandfather would be better."

"What happened, Harvey?" Sabrina slowly asked.

He shrugged. "We were down in Moon Valley, hunting. After a bit, we saw a deer... then, Grandpa said it was my turn. That it was 'time to be a man,' or something."

He swallowed. "But, I... I couldn't. I just couldn't do it."

As he said that, a massive wave of relief swept through Sabrina's core. Harvey continued. "So, instead, Grandpa shot it. I... should have stopped him, but I didn't-"

Before he could say any more, Sabrina swiftly enveloped him in a hug. "It's okay, Harvey, it's okay."

A moment later, she felt warm tears drip onto her head as they hugged each other tightly. "I just... I can't be like them, Sabrina. I don't want to. I don't want to end up like them."

"You won't," Sabrina whispered. "You won't be like them."

For a long while, they just stood there, in that warm embrace.

* * *

_The NExt evening, November 19th,_

_Feast of Feasts/ Thanksgiving_

_Putnam Residence_

Susie sat on her bed, idly leafing through Dorothea's journal. Suffice to say, her ancestor's life had not been boring. It made Susie feel... a bit envious.

The wind then whooshed outside.

Almost on instinct, Susie slowly looked up, and to her left.

Standing there was a woman. She was rather tall, with scarred, sun-kissed skin. She had short, close-cropped hair, and a somewhat boyish, narrow face. She was also dressed in colonial-era men's clothing.

Instead of screaming in alarm, Susie did not feel threatened. Instead, she just looked at the woman, who in turn looked back at her.

"... Dorothea?" Susie whispered.

The woman nodded.

Outside, a raven croaked...

* * *

With a gasp, Susie woke up.

"Hey Squirt!" her uncle called out. "Time to eat!"

Susie looked around her room.

Dorothea was not there.

Huh... must have been a dream.

* * *

Outside the Putnam house, a large black raven was perched upon the tree.

A moment later, it flew off...

* * *

_Meanwhile, Kinkle Residence_

The smell of beer and the sounds of loud snoring filled the air. Harvey and Tommy did their best to ignore it, as they dined on their microwavable Thanksgiving dinners.

Harvey shook his head as a particularly loud snore ripped through the air. "Right on time. Just like every year before, they start drinking before breakfast, and then pass out by lunch."

Tommy shrugged. "So, that means it's just you and me." He took a bite of turkey. "Honestly? I'm perfectly okay with that."

Harvey smiled at that. "Happy Thanksgiving, Tommy."

His brother chuckled. "Happy Thanksgiving, nerd."

* * *

_Later, Spellman Residence_

_Four hours before the Feast._

The doorbell rang.

Sabrina opened the door and put on a welcoming smile. "Father Blackwood. Please, come in. Happy... Feasts of Feasts."

The High Priest gave a small, thin-lipped smile of his own. "Blessed Feast, child."

Sabrina began to lead him in. "We'll be dining in the parlor tonight."

Then, from the down, the stairs emerged Prudence, flanked by Agatha and Dorcas.

Sabrina had to admit, that Prudence looked stunning in her Feast Dress. Low cut, one arm bare, and threaded with gold leaf and silver thread.

Blackwood looked upon Prudence and smiled again. "Ah, our Queen of the Feasts. I will say, you look utterly... delectable tonight."

Prudence beamed at his compliment. "Thank you, High Priest."

Aunt Zelda then emerged from the parlor. "The table is set. We are ready to begin."

Blackwood's eyes turned to her. "Ah, Zelda. You also look lovely this evening. May I ask as to where Hilda is?"

Aunt Zelda gave a tight smile. "Given my sister's ex-communication from the church, I did not deem it appropriate that she join us this evening."

"Besides, she's making desert," Sabrina chimed in. "Now, shall we all take a seat?"

* * *

_Wardwell's Cottage_

Lilith poured herself a glass from one of Wardwell's bottles. On his perch, Stolas cawed.

"A quiet Feast for us this year," she said to her familiar.

She then quietly raised her cup, a sigh managing to escape her lips. "To times long past."

_Indeed, my lady._

The doorbell then rang. "Ah, that would be the takeaway I ordered. Now, if you're nice... I'll share."

* * *

In the kitchen, Sabrina watched as Hilda put the finishing touches on the cake. It was a towering thing of blue-and-gold frosting and candied fruits and then topped with a large black feather. It was beautiful.

Sabrina grinned at Aunt Hilda, her co-conspirator in this. "Aunt Hilda, you've absolutely outdone yourself."

Her aunt giggled. 'Well, I should hope so. This is my mum's secret recipe. She used it when she thought that dad was having an affair."

"So, how long will it take to work?" Sabrina asked as she began to carefully carry it to the dining table.

"Uh... should be instantaneous."

Very slowly and very carefully, Sabrina carried the cake out to the dining room, where everyone had just finished their plates. Oddly enough, Father Blackwood had barely eaten anything at all, save for a few nibbles.

"And now," Sabrina said as she carefully set it down, "the piece de resistance! This is my aunt Hilda's brown butter marchpane cake with brandied currants."

Without further ado, she cut everyone a slice, starting with Prudence. "First and best for the Queen of the Feast, after all."

As everyone tucked in, Sabrina looked towards Father Blackwood. "So, Father, as a recent convert, I'm curious; why did you decide to reinstate the Feast of Feasts after my father outlawed it?"

Father Blackwood smiled thinly at her. "Well, after Edward's unfortunate death, the Dark Lord himself revealed to me that I was to return our coven to its centuries-old traditions."

He took a sip of his wine. "Sometimes, the old ways are the best."

Sabrina made sure to smile, and then turned to Prudence. "So, Prudence, are you excited about tonight?"

Prudence smiled at her. "Oh yes. Even though I enchanted the ballot box to pick me, I am sure that the Dark Lord will still welcome me at his side."

The moment she said that everyone suddenly looked at her in shock. Prudence's hand shot to her throat and mouth in surprise. "Wh... what?"

The High Priest arched an eyebrow. He then took a forkful of his cake, and sniffed at it. "Truth cake. How quaint."

He looked at Sabrina, respect dancing in his eyes. "So, was this your plan, my dear little Spellman? Serve truth cake, and get our 'queen,' to admit that she cheated, so as to put a stop to the Feast tonight? Were you also hoping to get me to 'spill the beans' as well?"

He then shrugged. "Very well then." He then took a bite of his cake, set down his now empty fork, and leaned back. "Well, go ahead. Ask me what you like."

Despite herself, Prudence looked towards him and swallowed. "Are you my father? Am I your daughter?"

Blackwood looked at Prudence before he then burst out laughing. He laughed long, and hard, and it was biting and mocking, so much that it seemed to rebound off the walls. "My daughter? Is that what you've really believed, all this time? Is that why you went through with this grand charade? My, oh my, what an imagination in your twisted little head. But alas, no, you're not. As a matter of fact, I've been physically incapable of having children with human or witch for well over forty years. So, again, no, Prudence, you are not my daughter."

He then pointed at Prudence, Agatha, and Dorcas. "As a matter of act though, you three are indeed blood sisters. You share the same father. Not me, of course, but one who was once a friend. I've only ever really looked after you three as a final favor to him, as he is quite dead."

He spread out his hands. "Well? Anything else you wish to know?"

Before Sabrina could ask about the truth of the Feast, Aunt Zelda, to her surprise, spoke up. "Faustus... what is the truth behind the Feast of Feasts? About Freya?"

Blackwood arched another eyebrow, and then he chuckled. "Well, dear Zelda... the truth is that Freya was no witch, nor was she ever willing. Does that answer your question, or should I go into greater detail?"

The room fell silent again.

So, it was all true.

No one could look the other in the eye.

Father Blackwood then stood up. "Well, everyone, this has been fun, but we must be off. Of course, we will have to redraw for a new Queen. That will be... fun."

"Do you have to though?" Sabrina then asked. "Can't you just say that the Dark Lord has granted you a new revelation, one that compels you to outlaw the Feast, for this year, and every year afterward?"

He looked at her as she finished. "Hmmm... an interesting idea, young lady."

He then shrugged. "Well, we'll just have see, now won't we?"

He gave a sarcastic bow. "See you all there."

* * *

_Later, Unholy Church_

Prudence looked sad and despondent, as she sat on the throne made of bleached skulls, whilst Agatha, Dorcas, and the rest of the choir sang a song extolling Freya and the Dark Lord.

Next to Zelda, Mildred leaned in conspiratorially. She looked more ragged and unkempt than normal. "I've been fasting for days," she whispered, excitement dancing in her voice.

Zelda was too despondent to even summon up and then resist, the urge to strangle the woman. That man... his story had been true.

All of this was based on a lie of murder and horror.

Then, Faustus entered and stood next to the throne as the singing came to an end.

* * *

Sabrina watched as Blackwood looked out onto the assembled coven, leaning slightly on his cane as he did so. "Brethren, sisters, most dark and unholy night to you all."

"And also to you," everyone replied back.

The High Preist cleared his throat. "Each year, we celebrate the Feast of Feasts as a way to commemorate Freya's most honored and selfless sacrifice. Praise her."

"Praise Freya! Praise Freya! Praise Freya!" everyone chanted.

He nodded, and then a somber look adorned his face. "However, tonight, it brings me no pleasure to bear dark tidings. In a most unexpected and unforeseen turn of events, and through circumstances entirely outside of our control or comprehension... Prudence Night is unable to fulfill her duties as the Queen of the Feast."

At that, everyone began to murmur in shock. Sabrina and Aunt Zelda shared a knowing look.

"Blasphemy!" Mildred Milesborne suddenly screamed.

"We're absolutely ravenous," shouted Evie Evenware.

"We must feast," bellowed Bethshaba Broken-Star.

Father Blackwood raised his hand as a call to silence. "Moreover. Moreover! Our Dark Lord has also revealed unto me another thing. He has revealed that this year, and for all years after, there shall be no..."

Before he could finish, Mildred Milesborne suddenly jumped to her feet and brandished her knife. "Freya Lives! Praise Satan!"

Then, in front of everyone, she slit her throat!

As blood poured out of her slit throat, her body dropped to the ground.

Everyone sprang to their feet in shock as they looked upon her cooling corpse. Sabrina and Aunt Zelda could not move, though.

Sabrina looked up. Father Blackwood was staring at Mildred Milesborne's cooling body in surprise.

He then looked right at Sabrina and smiled a smug grin.

For a brief moment, she could have sworn that his eyes had flashed red.

He then raised his hands. "All Hail Mildred! The Queen of the Feast!"

As everyone repeated his words with jubilation, the air was soon filled with the sounds of tearing flesh and cracking bone, as the entire coven, sand Aunt Zelda and Sabrina, fell upon Mildred's corpse in what could only be described as a feeding frenzy.

Sabrina could only watch in horror.

At that moment, as they tore and fought and fed, they did not seem human.

They seemed... monstrous.

She could not look away, though she desperately wanted to.

* * *

_Meanwhile, Kemper residence._

Everything was ready.

They had each written a note, and their drinks were filled with enough sleeping pills to do the job.

Mary looked at John.

As one, they raised their glasses to a picture of Connor as a baby. They then brought their glasses up to their lips.

_Ding-Dong!_

The ringing of the doorbell jarred them from the deed for a moment.

Despite herself, Mary set down her glass and stood to answer it.

She opened the door.

A scarred mouth smiled back at her.

As the door slammed shut, neither Mary nor John had time to scream.

* * *

_Meanwhile, Spellman Residence_

Almost in a daze, Sabrina and Aunt Zelda all but stumbled into the house, with neither having said a single word the entire walk home. As her aunt walked towards the stairs, Sabrina suddenly found her voice again. "Aunt Zelda?"

Her aunt paused and turned to look at her with a sigh. "Yes, Sabrina?

"...If it had been me that was chosen as Queen, and not Prudence... what would you have done? Would you have let what happened to Mildred... happen to me?"

Aunt Zelda looked at her for a long moment, and then defiant anger spread across her face. "Never in a million years." She then turned and began to walk up the stairs.

"But... what if it was the Dark Lord's will?"

Aunt Zelda simply shook her head. "It would not have mattered one bit. Now, let's not speak anymore of this, Sabrina. I'm feeling very tired."

* * *

_The Next Day, _

_Friday, November 20th_

_Academy of Unseen Arts_

Prudence sat primly and properly as Father Blackwood mulled over what she had just informed him, his fingers idly tapping against the wood of his desk. "Kinkle...Von Kunkle. Hmm... It's not improbable that the Inquisition may have missed a few illegitimate bastards here and there. Still, I thank you for informing me of this. Have you told anyone else? Even your two sisters?"

She shook her head. "No, High Priest. You are the first."

"Good. It would cause a panic, if it were to get out that a witch hunter bloodline had survived. This will have to be dealt with quietly and quickly."

Prudence nodded. "So, what do we do?"

A sly smile spread across the High Priest's porcelain face. "Well, my dear, since you were the one to have discovered this, it would seem only that that I leave the matter entirely in your capable hands. Think of it as a redemption for the stunt that you pulled. Can you do this?"

Prudence then smiled as well. "Thank you, Father."

This would restore her good graces with him.

As a bonus, it would make the half-breed suffer.

After all... this was all her fault.

* * *

_Meanwhile, Kinkle Coal Mines._

"Hey Nerd," Tommy said, and he and Harvey each grabbed their hard hats. "Want to know what the best thing about working the Friday after Thanksgiving is?"

Harvey shrugged as they each grabbed their time cards. "Getting out of the house?"

Tommy just chuckled. "That, but also... time-and-a-half pay."

* * *

_Academy of Unseen Arts_

Prudence faced her sisters, who in turn faced her.

After last night, neither had deigned to look or speak to her.

She cleared her throat. "I know that I have wronged both of you, my sisters. For that, I can only apologize. I will leave my punishment up to you. All I ask is your forgiveness."

Agatha and Dorcas looked at her for a long moment. Then, they embraced her. "We forgive you, sister." They both whispered as one. "But don't worry, we will still punish you later. The fun kind, at least."

Prudence smiled. "Thank you. Now, as for why we are here..."

She reached behind into the bag at her side and pulled out two dolls, each wrought in the shape of the half-breed's boyfriend... and his brother.

"Would you like to help me kill some witch-hunter spawn?"

Two wide and great smiles spread across the faces of her sisters. "Do lets."

A moment later, they all sat on the floor, and each held a rock in their hands.

With a shared smirk, Prudence, Agatha, and Dorcas raised the stones in their hands.

_Sticks and Stones break the witch-hunter's bones..._

_Crunch!_

* * *

**A/N: My apologies for taking so long on this chapter. Still, at least I managed to finish it by today. **

**It is here where the canon shall start to derail more fully. As to ho, well, just wait and see.**

**Read, review, enjoy, and have a wonderful, filling, and marvelous Thanksgiving!**


	16. Chapter 16

Fate Ragnarok Chapter 16: Death and a Bloody Moon

_Spellman Residence_

_November 20th_

_The day after the Feast-Of-Feasts_

_(And the Consumption of Mildred Milesbourne.)_

With a sigh of pure tiredness, Sabrina flopped down onto the sofa. A moment later, Salem hopped onto her shoulder, and nuzzled against her neck and cheek with a small 'fou.'

Ambrose exited from the kitchen with a plate of food. "Care for some bacon, cous'?"

Sabrina shook her head with a look of disgust. "After that _Feast _business yesterday, I don't think I want to look at another slab of pork for a very long while," Sabrina said, as she idly scratched Salem behind his ears. "Matter of fact, I think I'm just going to fast for a while. Probably not for the rest of my life, but at least for tonight."

Ambrose raised an eyebrow at that as he took as eat, and gave Salem a few scratches himself. "Oh really? Big plans?"

Sabrina nodded. "Yep. After his shift is over, Harvey and I are going to the movies."

Ambrose rolled his eyes. "Oh, Satan's horns. It galls me how you just casually say that. Still, I cannot remain jealous for long, as Luke and I will soon be able to do the same."

Sabrina quirked an eyebrow. "Really? And how, pray tell, is that going to happen? Last I check, you're still on house arrest."

Ambrose grinned conspiratorially. "Well, as it happens, Luke has a connection with the High Priest. He's offered to speak with Father Blackwood on my behalf so as to get my conviction overturned."

He then chuckled, a beamy look on his face as he chewed on a strip of bacon.

Sabrina looked at her older cousin, and a smile jumped onto her lips. "Oh Ambrose...you're just smitten, aren't you?"

As they shared another grin, the _tap-tap _of Aunt Zelda's sharp heels announced her presence, along with the pungent scent of her cigar. "Sabrina, Ambrose. Have either of you seen my idiot sister?"

"She's down working at the bookstore, Auntie Zee," Sabrina replied. "Remember, it's Black Friday."

Aunt Zelda scoffed. "It most certainly is not."

Sabrina shook her head. "No, I meant its the mortal's Black Friday. Not ours. Mortal Black Friday is the busiest shopping day of the year."

"Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot, Sabrina. However, it just so happens that this is also _our _busiest time of the year. Plenty of chokings, coronaries, clogged arteries, and, most importantly... suicides."

As she listed those wonderful facts, the phone rang.

With an elegant motion, Aunt Zelda answered the telephone. "Hello, Spellman Mortoraries. This is Zelda."

A moment later, her expression slackened and was replaced with shocked surprise. "What? No, we had not heard."

Her face grave, Aunt Zelda covered the phone's receiver. "Sabrina... there's been an accident down at the mines."

As shock and fear raced down her spine, Sabrina shot to her feet. "What!? But Harvey-"

Aunt Zelda waved her off. "Just go, and pray to Satan that he's alright."

A moment later, Sabrina was already running out the door.

* * *

_Greendale Mines_

His head hurt.

His head hurt, and there was a loud whine in his ears.

He felt a funny taste in his mouth... oh, wait.

That was blood.

And dust.

He was walking.

When had he started walking?

His head hurt.

Something ran down his face. What was it-

Oh, wait.

That was blood.

As the whine grew softer, the other sounds started to grow louder. Then, one started to cut through all the rest.

-arvey!? Harvey!"

Oh, it was her.

He blinked.

"Sabrina?

* * *

The moment she had arrived, Sabrina had already begun to fear the worst, despite doing her best to quash those fears down the deep.

Over and over she had called out his name, asking anyone if they had seen him.

Just when it seemed the worst had come to pass, she saw him. With a strangled gasp, she all but rushed towards him.

"Harvey? Harvey!"

He was just... standing there, covered in blood and dust. There was a slightly dazed look in his eyes, but they seemed to slightly brighten as he looked at her. "Sabrina?"

She hugged him tightly, and he dazedly hugged her back. "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you," she repeated over and over again.

"I... I made it out in time," Harvey slowly said. "I think... Tommy..."

Then his eyes got a bit clearer. "Wait... Tommy? Oh god, I, I think he's still in there!"

He then tried to push past her. "Tommy! Tommy!"

But Sabrina would not be budged and pushed him back gently but firmly by his shoulders. "Harvey, no. Just hold on a minute. Harvey, you're in shock."

He shook his head. "Gotta... gotta find my dad."

He looked like he was about to collapse.

He almost did. Sabrina seemed to be all that was holding him up.

* * *

_Several hours later_

The next several hours seemed to both flash and trickle by. Susie and Roz had arrived soon after Sabrina.

Harvey still seemed dazed. All he could seem to do was just sit and let the paramedics look at his wounds. He had to get at least three stitches on his head, and several more for a deep cut on his hand.

The air was continuously filled with groans and whimpers. Food lines were set up, while others were in the mines trying to find more survivors.

There were even prayer circles being held.

Harvey had tried to head back in, but his wounds were deemed too bad for him to go back. Sabrina had then managed to get him to sit in his truck and rest.

As she brought him lunch, he was still just sitting there, staring. His eyes were still glazed. "We... we have to do something... Tommy, he..."

Sabrina put a hand on his arm. "I know. I know. But right now, there's nothing you can do Harvey. The doctor said that if you tear your stitches, you could wind up with some serious damage."

He looked at her slowly, and she continued. "Besides, everyone is doing the best they can."

He slowly nodded. "I... I know."

She gave him a gentle pat on his uninjured cheek. "Look, just stay here, eat your food, and I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?"

"... okay."

As she headed back into the makeshift trauma unit, she saw a large group huddled around the entrance to the mines. Curious, she got a doctor's attention. "Hey, what's going on?"

The doctor shrugged. "From what I heard, apparently some kid got the wild idea to slip into the mines when no one was looking."

As Sabrina puzzled over that, Roz then came running up. "Sabrina! Have you seen Susie? I can't seem to find her anywhere."

As she heard Roz's question, Sabrina slowly put two and two together, and her eyes widened. "Wait, you don't think..."

Then, a commotion could be made at the mine entrance. With fear and worry guiding them, Roz and Sabrina managed to push their way to the front of the little crowd. As they did, they watched as a dirty and disheveled Susie walked tiredly out of the mine, flanked by two other rescue workers.

"Susie, what is going on?" Sabrina demanded worriedly of her disheveled friend.

"What were you thinking," Roz all but screamed. "Are you crazy? Have you lost your mind? You could have been killed!"

Susie wearily shook her dusty head. "I was small enough to fit through the hole they had dug. Besides, it's what my Aunt Dorothea told me to do."

Roz's brow scrunched up in temporary confusion as she threw up her hands. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Susie seemed to understand what she had just said and cleared her throat. "Sorry, I mean that its what my Aunt Dorothea would have done. Sorry, just tired, I guess."

Her face then became downcast. "But... I didn't find anyone."

She then lifted up the bloody and dented helmet in her hands. "All I could find was this."

Roz's hands shot to her mouth in shock. "Oh, my god."

Then, a rough voice cut through. "What in the hell is going on here?"

It was Mr. Knikle, roughly shoving his way through the crowd.

Wordlessly, Susie handed him the helmet.

Almost as if in disbelief, he looked down at it. Then, a younger voice called out. "E-excuse me. Pardon me."

Sabrina looked up. It was Harvey. What was he doing!?

Before she could get to him, Harvey had reached his dad. Harvey then looked down at the bloody and dented helmet. His already pale face then turned as white as a sheet. "Wait... that's... that's Tommy's helmet."

He then looked around. "Did... did we find him?"

No one answered, save for a sad shake of Susie's head. Harvey's eyes grew more desperate. "Then... then we have to go back! We have to keep looking!"

Before he could head towards the mine entrance, Mr. Kinkle put a heavy hand on Harvey's shoulder. "And we will... but not today. Not right now."

Before anyone could protest, Mr. Kinkle continued. "For Christ's sake, it's turning into a fucking shit-show down there. The fast that we dig, the more that the tunnel's gonna collapse. We just don't have the right equipment for this, but we will get it tomorrow. Once we do, we'll pick right back up."

He then turned to fully address everyone. "I thank you all for coming here. However, unless you are an employee of the mine or a rescue worker for the town of Greendale, then I must ask you all to go home. But, again, thank you all for the support. I'll see you tomorrow."

As everyone began to slowly file out, Sabrina noted that Harvey was just... standing there.

When it was just the two of them, she went up to him.

He almost collapsed, and then just clung to her like a drowning man would to a raft.

* * *

_Later_

Snuggled under a blanket in the back of Harvey's truck, Sabrina handed her boyfriend a cup of coffee. As he sipped it, some color slowly returned to his pale cheeks.

After his sip, he sighed. "He saved me, y'know? Tommy did."

Sabrina leaned in a bit to listen, as Harvey took another sip of coffee. "When... when the mine was starting to collapse... Tommy, he pushed me out of the way. Just screamed at me to run, so... I did. I just... started running."

He sniffed and sighed. "Guess... guess I was just being a coward, again."

Sabrina adamantly shook her head, and gently took his hand. "No... no, you weren't."

He then shook his head and sniffed again. "It was kind of weird though... somehow, the tunnel seemed to hold long enough for me to get out."

He then chuckled darkly. "Though, not unscathed, I guess," he said, gesturing to his head.

He then looked at her. "Did ya cast some sort of protection on me or something?"

She smiled gently. "Something like that."

His face then grew somber again, and his voice started to shake a bit. "They... they say that the first twelve hours... after any mining accident are the most..."

He swallowed, almost afraid to continue speaking. "...Most crucial. If you don't find survivors in that time..."

He trailed off, and tears began to form in the corner of his eyes.

Sabrina took his hands and gently embraced him. "It's going to be alright, Harvey. Everything's gonna be okay."

As he nodded at that, he felt her hands. "Huh... you feel cold. Here."

Gently, he began to rub her hands. It was a nice feeling and made her smile again. "I'm okay," she whispered to him.

She then leaned in and kissed him upon the lips.

They kissed once more, and then, his large arm comfortingly around her, she and Harvey lowered themselves down under the thick blanket.

Sabrina snuggled into his broad chest, and he held her close.

"Will you stay with me, Sabrina Spellman?" he whispered.

"All night, Harvey Kinkle," she replied.

Nothing more was said, as they looked up at the stars...

* * *

_The next day_

_Saturday, November 21st_

_Spellman House_

With a yawn, Sabrina trudged up the walkway to the stairs of her house.

To her slight surprise, she saw Aunt Hilda in her coffee-shop costume, ambling up the driveway. She also looked tired.

Their eyes met, and her aunt gave her a tired grin. "Sabrina," she said.

"Aunt Hilda... Wait, have you been working all night?" Sabrina asked.

Aunt Hilda nodded. "Yes, I have been. Doctor Cee had kept the bookstore open all through the night, just to give coffee and hot chocolate to all the volunteers."

She then lightly grasped Sabrina's hand. "So... how's our sweet Harvey?"

Sabrina sighed. 'He went home with his dad. I'm just here to get changed, then we're all meeting back at the mines."

As the pair then turned to head inside, Aunt Zelda suddenly appeared on the porch. She looked... tired, and oddly unkempt.

"Come inside, the both of you."

* * *

_Later_

The four of them were all sat at the kitchen table.

Aunt Zelda took a long draw of her cigar, and then cleared her throat. "Ambrose and I... have news. However, I must ask you to brace yourselves, as it is not pleasant."

A cold knot of fear clenched itself inside Sabrina's stomach.

Ambrose then continued. "I was astral-projecting, with Aunt Zee keeping watch... and I went to the mines."

He sighed heavily. "...There were no survivors."

The silence in the room became deafening. Sabrina felt speechless.

Aunt Hilda whimpered in sadness. "Dear Lucifer... Are... are you sure?"

Ambrose turned to look at her. "I'm fairly certain, yes."

"Well, in that case, we have to tell them. Harvey is just sick with worry, and people might get hurt if they keep looking," Sabrina stammered.

Aunt Zelda gave a rueful shake of her head. "Unfortunately, we can't do that, Sabrina."

Before Sabrina could protest, Aunt Zelda looked at her with sadness in her eyes. "Now, you have to understand... _this _is the perilousness of being a witch who consorts with mortals. To have knowledge that they don;t, and be completely unable to share it or act upon it."

Sabrina shook her head in disbelief. "But... it... it just doesn;t make any sense."

Aunt Zelda simply sighed. "The sad truth is that things... sometimes just happen. Accidents happen, awful accidents. But, alas, the natural order is to be maintained, at all costs. That is one of our most basic tenets. Things must play out as they would, and they must do so without our interference. If not, then-"

"Bad things will happen. Yeah, I get it," Sabrina said, morosely.

"It is a most terrible tragedy for all of those pour souls in there. At best, we can hope they are all at peace now," Aunt Zelda said, with some rather uncharacteristic kindness.

Ambrose awkwardly cleared his throat. "Did... did you know him at all, Sabrina?"

"You mean Tommy?"

Ambrose nodded.

Sabrina sighed. "Well, I met him a few times, but... he meant the world to Harvey. And now... Harvey's going to be devastated."

* * *

_Meanwhile,_

_Kinkle Residence_

Feeling much better, Harvey headed downstairs. "Hey dad, are we heading back to..."

He trailed off when he saw his dad and another man, seated over a plethora of papers on the living room ottoman.

His dad looked up, glared at him, and then sighed. "Harvey, this is Mr. Morris, from the bank. Mr. Morris, this is Harvey."

Harvey looked at the bookish man as he stood. "...Hey."

The man cleared his throat. "Hello, Harvey. I am so very sorry about your brother."

What? What was he talking about? "We... we still haven't found him."

Harvey's dad sighed. "Look, Harvey, I... I don't like making this decision any more than you like hearing it."

Oh no. "...Hearing what? What decision are you talking about, dad?"

"It's just that... I have the safety of the other men to consider..."

* * *

_Later, Spellman Residence_

"He called off the fucking search!" Harvey exclaimed in anger, as he slammed the door.

Sabrina watched him as he started pacing back and forth. "Who did?" she asked.

"My asshole of a father. He spewed some bullshit about how he 'can't risk the loss of any more lives,' but, like I just said, that's bullshit! For fuck's sake, he was already talking to the insurance company and the bank, because he cares more about some stupid payout then he does about finding Tommy!"

At the mention of finding his brother, Sabrina flinched. In his anger, Harvey did not notice. "I don't think it's like that, Harvey. I think he's just worried, like you."

Harvey shook his head. "No, Sabrina. He's coming here. He's coming here to plan Toomy's funeral. _For Tomorrow! _The bastard's rushing it because he can't collect the insurance check until there's been a funeral."

Harvey wiped at his face. "A funeral tomorrow. And we... we haven't even found Tommy's body yet."

Sabrina put a sorrowful hand on Harvey's shoulder as his breath hitched. "What... what kind of man does that?"

* * *

_The Next Day,_

_Sunday, November 22nd_

_Spellman Residence_

_The morning before the Funeral of Tommy Kinkle_

As Aunt Hilda fiddled with the stitching on Sabrina's black funeral shirt, Sabrina spoke. "Auntie?" she asked.

"Yes, my lamb?"

This would be a difficult subject to broach. Taking a deep breath, Sabrina sat down beside her aunt. "What exactly happens when you die?"

Her aunt paused in her stitching and looked up. "Hmm?"

"Where do you go, after you pass?"

Her aunt swallowed, sighed, and then shrugged. "Well, uh... I can only speak for witches. And, I suppose that you're only asking me this on account of being curious as to what happens to mortals like young Tommy Kinkle.

Sabrina nodded. In response, Aunt Hilda shook her head. "I honestly do not know."

Oh.

Sabrina then asked another question. "Does it hurt? Dying? All of those times with Aunt Zelda, I mean."

Aunt Hilda sighed and then gave a nervous chuckle. 'Well, that usually depends on what she uses to murder me, I suppose."

Sabrina swallowed a third time. "And... how exactly does she bring you back? Is it through a spell... or are you under some sort of curse?"

In her pocket, Wednesday's coin grew cold.

Aunt Hilda paused in her stitching again. Then, for a second time, she nervously chuckled, only this time, it was tinged with sadness. "No. Nothing like that, I'm afraid. It's just... just soil. The plot she buries me in? Supposedly, it's from the garden of Cain, stained forever with Abel's blood. Blasted plot has been in our family for generations. Within that soil lies all the mysteries of life and death."

She then beamed and held up Sabrina's shirt. 'There. All done. Now, let's try it on, shall we?"

They both stood, and Aunt Hilda slid it onto Sabrina. It felt good. Aunt Hilda did wonderful work, as always.

Her aunt's face then grew a bit stern. "Now, try not to take me for a fool, my lamb. I know perfectly well why you are asking me all this. You want to know if you can bring back your boyfriend's dead brother. If so, then I must implore you to quash that thought from your mind at once. Life and death... they are forces that no one, mortal or witch, are ever meant to tangle with, let alone understand."

Her face then softened again, and she gently took Sabrina's hands in her own worn ones. "Besides... there is a difference, my lamb, between being brought back, and wanting to come back," Aunt Hilda said, as she picked at Sabrina's black shirt for any last little bits of lint. "Now, your Aunt Zelda, she will never give me the chance to... rest. But young Thomas? He died saving his brother. He died a hero. He's earned his rest. So please... let him keep it."

Before Sabrina could say anything, Aunt Hilda's face grew pensive. "_Please_."

Sabrina slowly nodded. "I won't try anything. I promise."

She then sighed. "Besides, we don't even have a body to bury. Just his hat."

Aunt Hilda gave a sad sigh and hugged Sabrina tightly.

* * *

_Later_

_The Funeral of Tommy Kinkle_

As solemn organ music echoed through the house, the guests, friends, and family of the Kinkles filed into the house. Harvey's father must have called them the day of the collapse.

Sabrina watched as he didn;t even try to comfort Harvey.

"Ever solemn are these funerals, are they not?"

Sabrina looked behind her. It was... "Mr. Wednesday?"

The teacher smiled sadly under his dark glasses. He was garbed in solemn mourner's clothes, all black. Dangling from his arm was a solid black cane. "Hello, Sabrina. Were that this was a happier occasion."

He then looked about. "Amazing how many have deigned to show up and pay their respects. But, that is a mining town for you; they breed hardy, and they stick together."

He then sighed. "How is our young Harvey holding up?"

She shook her head. "He's... doing his best."

He nodded. "I see. Well, at least he made it out."

Sabrina in turn nodded and then leaned in conspiratorially. "Yeah... I think it's because I placed a protective charm on him."

Mr. Wednesday, in turn, grinned through his beard. "Well done."

He then straightened up. "Now then, I think I shall pay my respects to young Harvey. See you in class, my dear."

As he left, Sabrina mused how lucky it had been that she had placed that protection on Harvey after the incident in the familiar forest... with the Weird Sisters.

...

...

...

No.

* * *

As they stood at the entrance to the parlor, handing out brochures, Ambrose and Zelda watched the growing crowd of mortals.

Ambrose leaned in and sighed heavily. "Oh Auntie Zee," he murmured. "Do you think that there are ever any mortals who realize life while they are living it? Every fleeting, precious moment?"

Zelda shrugged and sighed herself. "I don't think so, save for the poets and the artists, perhaps. Though we are not much better, mind you. None of us are."

As she headed off to hand out more brochures, Ambrose scanned the crowd. Then, his eye caught something.

A flash of red hair.

Could it be...

Yes. It was. It was the woman from the nightmare. Same red hair, same height. An unlit cigarette dangle from her lips.

She then looked at him and smirked.

He then blinked... and she was gone.

With a shrug, Ambrose entered the parlor. The ceremony was about to begin anyway...

* * *

_From sorrow, toil and pain_

_And sin, we shall be free_

_And perfect love_

_and friendship reign_

_Through all eternity_

Roz sang beautifully.

As the music gently ground to a halt, she took her seat.

Aunt Hilda then gently gestured to Harvey. "Harvey, it's your turn, love."

With a final squeeze of his hand, Sabrina watched as Harvey slowly walked to the podium beside the empty casket.

He took a deep breath as he looked over at everyone, unshed tears in his eyes.

He took another breath. "We... we are gathered here today... to say goodbye to my brother... Thomas Kinkle."

He paused. "Tommy... he was not just my brother... but also my best friend. He is... was..."

He sniffled, and then lightly raised up his hands, as if in surrender. "Oh, God... I just don't know what to say. It's just crazy... It's just crazy."

He attempted a shaky smile. "Tommy though... he always knew what to say, if you were feeling down, to make you feel better, to make you laugh. He sometimes called me 'nerd.' He was the kind of guy who would drop any and everything to help you. He always bought me my school supplies, every year... He was my best friend. He was my brother. We talked about everything under the sun. We talked about girls."

He then looked at Sabrina. "Well, one girl."

Sabrina felt sorrow melt her heart as he continued. "One time... I asked him what his dreams were. He just said that they were to make sure that my dreams came true. That's... that's just the kind of person he was. That was Tommy, and I... I miss him."

He slowly exhaled and wiped at his eye for a moment. "Thank you."

With another shaky breath, he sat back down next to Sabrina. She put an arm around his shoulder.

Then, Harvey's dad stood up. He already seemed a bit off-balance.

When he reached the podium, he cleared his throat. "My son, Thomas Kinkle, he was a good man, and honorable man. I'm sure that we can all take comfort knowing that he's reunited with his mother up in heaven."

Next to her, Sabrina felt Harvey suddenly tense, as his dad continued. "Above all, Tommy valued his family and his duty. He did whatever was asked of him, and he never once complained."

Sabrina heard the pop of Harvey's knuckles as he clenched them. "Tommy, he understood the danger... but he also understood that the mines are the lifeblood and beating heart of Greendale. And Tommy... he loved our mines."

Then, Harvey spoke up. "No, he didn't."

The moment he spoke, every head in the parlor turned towards him. His father's face then grew angry. "Boy..." he began.

But Harvey would not stop, and he continued to speak as he stood up. "Tommy hated those mines, dad! The only reason that he even worked there at all was because you forced him to. And for what? Some stupid family legacy?

"The only reason he was still in this town was because of me! I got him killed!"

His father's face grew more wrathful. "Boy, you better watch your mouth..."

"No! Tommy, he could have gotten out of this god-forsaken hellhole if it wasn't for you! But no! You just couldn;t let him go, could you? But of course not, because just how would that look!?"

His father stalked towards him, a snarl on his face. "That's it. Sit down, boy."

Harvey remained standing. Mr. Kinkle then grabbed him by his coat. "I said sit down, you little bastard."

Harvey resisted As they struggled, the back of Harvey's dad collided with the casket. It was then sent crashing to the ground, letting its contents, Tommy's helmet, roll out.

For a long moment, everyone just looked at it, that dented helmet.

A moment later, Harvey promptly dashed out of the parlor.

Sabrina followed after him. "Harvey," she called out.

* * *

While Sabrina followed out after Harvey, Roz walked over to Tommy's helmet and bent down to pick it up.

The moment her fingers touched it...

* * *

_Outside_

When Sabrina got outside, she saw Harvey, hunched over and leaning against the fence.

As she approached, he was breathing heavily. "I can't do it. I can't live in that fucking house without him, Sabrina. I can't live alone with my dad."

Slowly, Sabrina reached out to touch Harvey's arm. He was trembling. "Harvey. I... I'm so sorry."

Harvey shook his head. "And you know what the worst part is? It's all my fault. I'm the reason he's dead!"

What? Why would he say that? "Harvey. You know that's not true."

"Yes, it is!" he screamed. "Take a look at this!"

As he turned to look at her, he reached into his coat and pulled out a worn and folded sheet of paper.

Gingerly, she took it and unfolded it. It was... "A letter from Notre Dame?"

Harvey nodded, tears in his eyes. "It's an acceptance letter. For Tommy. He had applied three years ago, and he had gotten in. They had even offered him a full football scholarship, a full fucking ride!"

He sniffed. "I found it in his room while I was looking for a photo to use for the funeral."

"I... I don't understand," Sabrina said.

Harvey shook his head, his trembling increasing as he grabbed at the sheet of paper. "He had an out! He had a chance to get out of this shithole of a town! But he didn't! He stayed, and you know why!? It was because of me! I know it! It's all because of me! I got him killed!"

As he screamed this, tears streamed down his face, and he slowly sank to the ground. "I killed him," he whispered. "I killed my brother."

Sabrina knelt down by him and cradled his head against her chest as he sobbed. "What am I gonna do?"

Angry footsteps cut through their sorrow. "You can man up, you miserable little piece of shit!" his father bellowed.

Harvey and Sabrina shot to their feet, with Harvey stepping in front of Sabrina protectively.

"You think it's okay for you to go and embarrass me like that, huh? In front of our family? To just spit and shit on Tommy's memory like that, huh!?" As he spoke, he grabbed the front of Harvey's coat.

"Let go of him, Mr. Kinkle!" Sabrina exclaimed.

"Stay out this!" he said to her, before turning back to Harvey. "It shouldn;t have been Tommy. It should have been you, you little bastard."

Harvey's face was downcast. "I really wish it had been me," he said.

That seemed to only make his father angrier. "Oh, you little bastard!"

His fist reared back.

But, before he could strike, a gloved hand grabbed him by his wrist.

"Mr. Kinkle," said Mr. Wednesday.

Mr. Kinkle turned, and then Mr. Wednesday proceeded to punch him in the face, sending him careening to the muddy ground.

Before he could get up, Mr. Wednesday's foot stepped heavily on the man's wrist, making him yelp in pain. Sabrina and Harvey watched as their history teacher leaned in close to Harvey's dad. "This is your son's funeral, Mr. Kinkle. Stop acting like a child, so that we may all honor his memory in peace. Although, since your guests are leaving, I suggest that you do the same. Now, will you do that, or shall I give you a second thrashing?"

Mr. Kinkle struggled for a moment and then nodded angrily. As he got to his feet, he glared daggers at Harvey one more time, and then stalked off.

A moment later, Harvey headed towards his truck. "Harvey-" Sabrina called out.

"I'm sorry, 'Brina," he said. "I just... I need to be alone right now."

As she made to go after him, she felt Mr. Wednesday's hand on her shoulder. "Just give him time, my dear," he said. "Just give him time."

* * *

As everyone started to leave, Roz excused herself to the bathroom. Once inside, she proceeded to scrub at her face vigorously with water.

When she had picked up Tommy's helmet...

_A strange room covered with pentagrams..._

_Three girls, each with cruelty in their eyes, all laughing as they smashed rocks into two dolls, over and over and over again..._

What was all that?

Then, the door opened, and, to her slight surprise, in walked Mr. Wednesday's friend, Ms. Touko.

Roz looked at her in surprise, and the woman smiled back. "Sorry," she said. "Didn't know this was occupied. I just needed to wash my hands. May I?"

"Uh... sure," Roz said, as she stepped aside.

Now that she was seeing her for more than a moment, Roz saw that she was rather tall. She was also very beautiful, with lips that seemed almost made to be kissed, wrought as they were in a smirk.

As she washed her hands, Ms. Aozaki smirked again. "So... what did you see?"

Roz's head shot up. "Wh-what? What are you talking about?"

Ms. Aozaki leaned in, her face very close to Roz's. Her's eyes seemed almost as if they were searching for something. "Was it your first vision? Oh, it was, wasn't it? How very interesting."

"I... I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me, pretty girl. You saw something. What did you see?"

Roz swallowed. "I... I have to go."

As she slipped by the woman, Ms. Aozaki smirked, and then laid a hand on her shoulder, making her stop cold. "You know, the more you try to repress it, the more you deny it... the worse it will get. At best, you'll end up a cackling, insane madwoman, eking out her days on society's fringes. At worse? You'll be a drooling vegetable. It might just be intuition, but I don;t think you want to be either of those things, right?"

She leaned in close. "When you feel ready to know more, come find me at the Nameless Inn."

The woman then sauntered out of the restroom, leaving a very confused, and slightly frightened, Roz.

* * *

_Later that evening._

The house bell rang.

_Ding-Dong. _

A bit confused as to who would be calling upon the house this late, Zelda answered the door.

To her surprise, it was "Father Blackwood?"

He nodded. "Sister Zelda," he said, as he strode past her, a heavy tome under his arm.

She swallowed. "We've had quite the day here, but, do come in. May I ask as to why you are visiting us?"

He took off his hat and handed it to her. "As a matter of fact, I am here to see your nephew."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why? What's he done now?"

"Nothing. It would seem that someone has appealed to get his house arrest lifted."

* * *

Ambrose resisted the urge to rub his hands together, as Father Blackwood leafed through Ambrose's personal transcripts.

The High Priest then looked up at him. "I must admit, brother Ambrose, I am at a bit of a loss. The moment that Brother Luca came to me about you, I took a look into your personal dossier. What I found was nothing short of astounding and contradictory: You went to Oxford on a full scholarship and published a book of poetry at the age of Seventeen. Then after graduation, you traveled. You painted with the surrealists, taught stage magic to Houdini himself. With the way things were going, you were on the fast track to being one of the most urbane and well-traveled geniuses of the age. So, of course, when I discovered the reason for your imprisonment, I was left quite perplexed. Just how did one such as you get involved in a plot to blow up the Vatican?"

Oh boy.

Ambrose swallowed. Well, better to lay everything on the table.

He sighed and began. "My father, he died when I was at school Killed in an accident. One day he was there, and the next... just gone."

He shook his head as the sorrow eked up. "After that, things just felt... empty. I felt empty, drifting from university to university, just trying to find a father figure, I suppose."

He sighed again. "And then... I found one."

"Go on."

"He was brilliant, charismatic, and absolutely devoted to the Dark Lord. It was a young Aleister Crowly."

Father Blackwood quirked an eyebrow. "The heretic?"

Ambrose nodded. "Yes. And the day that I met him... his mission became _my _mission."

Father Blackwood sighed. "And yet, you were the only one arrested for the plot. More to the point, the only one _alive_. And you were not so much arrested as you had simply... turned yourself in. Why?"

"Me and the others... we had gone forward with the plan. But... there had been a snag. Were stopped. By a single priest."

"A priest?"

Ambrose shook his head, as the screams returned to his memories. "Less a priest, and more some... demon of the battlefield. He slaughtered all my friends in seconds. Then, he started to hunt me down. No matter where I fled to, he always seemed on my trail. Eventually... I turned myself in and confessed to everything. Then... he vanished."

Father Blackwood nodded. "And yet, though you were offered the chance to name the rest of your co-conspirators, you chose not to. Why?"

Ambrose shrugged. "Loyalty, I suppose."

"Admirable."

Ambrose nodded and then chuckled self-deprecatingly. "Fat lot of good it did. The rest are all dead, anyhow." He then looked up. "But... I've changed. Truly, I have. I just want the chance to show that I have changed. I want the chance to be better."

Father Blackwood was silent for a long moment and then stood up. "Well, seeing as how you seem sincere, I shall review your case, and bring it to the council. I cannot promise anything, but, they will probably look favorably upon you."

That was the best Ambrose could hope for at the moment. "Thank you, Father Blackwood."

The High Priest nodded. Then, as he turned to leave, he stopped and turned back. "Out of curiosity, did you happen to know the name of the priest who slaughtered your compatriots?"

Ambrose nodded, though a bit perplexed by the question. "Yeah. I'll never forget it for as long as I walk this earth... Alexander Anderson."

Father Blackwood quirked an eyebrow at the mention of that name, but that was it. He then smiled. "I bid you a good night, Brother Ambrose."

With that, he left.

* * *

As he stepped outside the Spellman House, the thing masquerading as Faustus Blackwood shook his head and chuckled. "Anderson... so the church actually did it. How amusing."

As he chuckled, memories of Aylesbury filled his mind...

* * *

_Putnam Residence_

It was hard to sleep. Susie had spent a great deal of time tossing and turning. It was just hard to sleep.

For the umpteenth time, she was on her back. Hmmm... she actually felt comfortable this time.

"Susie," came Dorothea's voice, a whisper on a still wind.

Without fear, Susie sat up and saw her ancestor, standing before her.

Susie smiled at her ancestor. "Dorothea. I did what you asked. I went to the mines."

Her ancestor smiled back. "That you did. You are a very brave boy. But, that is to be expected, I suppose. We Putnams have always been brave, ever since this township was founded." She then leaned in slightly. "Tell me... how did it feel?"

"Scary," Susie admitted. "But, at the same time? Really good."

Dorothea joined in on her chuckling. "That's good. You need to hold on to that feeling. Because that was just the beginning..."

* * *

_Meanwhile, Kinkle Residence_

Harvey had spent most of the day idling about town, but, eventually, he had to go home.

Fucking fantastic.

As he pulled into the driveway, he saw many of his relatives were still about. The whole place now and truly reeked of booze.

He ignored them all as best he could as he slipped past them. He had just gotten past the top of the stairs when...

"You and me have some unfinished business, boy," came a slurring voice.

Harvey sighed, his fists clenched. "Not tonight dad."

He heard his dad spit on the ground behind him. "Y'know... I always hate when you call me 'dad,' you little bastard."

"And why's that?" Harvey asked as he turned to face his drunk dad. "Because you can't stand the fact that I'm your son?"

His dad then grabbed him hard by the arm. "When you talk like that, you remind me of your cunt of a mother!"

Harvey felt a rage boil up. "Don't talk about my mother like that, you miserable drunk!"

"Shut the fuck up, you little bastard! You think you're better than me!? Just like her. Your whore of a mother, she always thought she was too fucking good for me. After Tommy was born, she started opening her legs for half the fucking men in this fucking town! It made me a fucking laughing stock! Then, one day, she heads out, doesn't come back for a week. Then, she comes back, acting as if nothing had ever happened, even acted like a wife for a change. Then, nine months later, along comes you!"

Harvey's eyes widened in shock at this, so he didn't see his father's fist until it slammed into his jaw, knocking him down, and making him slide down to the bottom floor. As Harvey spat out a tooth, the man he had thought was his father then proceeded to stomp on his ribs with a heavy _crunch,_ making Harvey scream out in agony.

The rest of the Kinkle clan just watched. Some even cheered.

"Everyone could fucking see it! That whore tried to play me for a fool, but I knew that you weren't mine the moment that you were born! She let some other sap fuck her, and so she had you! The only consolation was that she died popping you out!"

His dad... no, Mr. Kinkle, kept kicking and hitting him. "You're nothing but a little bastard! A stain on my name, my reputation! 'Cause of you, my son is dead!"

The edges of Harvey's vision were starting to blacken. The taste of blood was in Harvey's mouth, and pain lanced its way through his spine.

Outside, the clouds parted, and the full moon shone.

A lance of cold shot through Harvey's entire being.

"You're nothing but a filthy little bastard monkey!"

Suddenly the kicking stopped because Harvey had caught his foot. "No…" he groaned out, as his bones and flesh began to twist and grow, and claws extended from his fingers. "Not… monkey!"

_Fight. _

_ Prey._

_Eat._

_ Kill._

_ Kill._

_ Kill._

_ KILL_

_ KILL!_

_ **KILL!**_

_**KILKILKILKILKILIKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILL!**_

The last thing Harvey heard was the sound of his father and the rest of the Kinkle family, screaming….

* * *

Outside the Kinkle Household, the two Ravens were perched on a tree branch and listened to the screams...

* * *

_Monday, November 23rd_

_Spellman Residence_

The day after Tommy's funeral felt just as depressing as the day of the funeral. Everything had closed down for the day, even the school.

The town had lost a true son, after all.

Sabrina idly looked out over the Spellman property from the porch, alongside Ambrose, as she stroked Salem. her familiar was currently nestled on her blanket-covered lap.

"Penny for your thoughts, cous?" Ambrose asked as he sipped at his coffee.

"Just... worried about Harvey, I guess."

Ambrose nodded. "Have you called him yet?"

Sabrina shook her head. "No. Mr. Wednesday suggested that he just have time to himself for a bit."

"Sounds logical."

Anything else either of them would have said then died in their throats as they then looked down the driveway. A scream burst out of Sabrina's lips.

It was Harvey.

He was completely naked, and covered in scratches and dirt and… blood, swaying as he walked up to the house, before collapsing to the ground in front of the steps.

The moment he collapsed, the paralysis dissipated, and Sabrina burst up from her seat and scrambled down the steps, with Ambrose trailing right behind her with a blanket. As her cousin gently wrapped her shivering boyfriend in the blanket, Sabrina was all the while whispering to him, stroking his head.

"Harvey? Harvey, are you okay? What happened?"

In lieu of an answer, all he did was simply look up at her with bloodshot eyes, and then throw up what seemed like the entire contents of his stomach onto the ground, before passing out.

What the hell happened to him!?

* * *

**A/N. Canon has now been officially derailed!**

**Sorry this chapter took so long. Hope you all enjoy it. **

**Read, review, and enjoy! **


	17. Chapter 17

Fate Ragnarök Chapter 17: A town called Riverdale, The Battle of Angels, and Sacrifice

Across the river from Greendale, there lies another little town. Like Greendale, it seems like a simple little slice of Americana. There was the local diner, the highschool, the seedy clubs, and other old cliches that comprise little towns that were somehow still on maps.

This was Riverdale, a town of normalcy, and secrets. A piece of Americana, and yet one rife with murder, cults, drugs, and conspiracies.

Or at least... it had been...

* * *

_Several Days Ago._

Terrence "Pop" Tate had a lot to be proud of, but the one thing he was the proudest of was his family diner, Pop's Chock'litte Shoppe. Established by his father, the diner had survived recessions, wars, riots, elections, and debts.

He was proud of it, and it helped that he knew how to make a good burger. it helped him keep on track, especially after the war.

Such horror... But that was all in the past.

Now, all he had to think about was burgers and shakes and things.

In the corner, the Night Hawk was typing away on that lap-top of his, and half-a-dozen empty burger plates stacked up next to him, and a fresh one in his hand.

A few others lazed about the diner as well, eating their own fare.

All in all, a good day.

* * *

The whole town watched with partial interest as a large number of black trucks rolled through the town. Other residents of other towns would have felt concerned. but for the town of Riverdale?

They just assumed that it was Hiram Lodge's latest scheme. Whatever it was, they would weather through it, and make it out the other end.

They always did, after all.

* * *

Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Third, known to his friends, acquaintances, and enemies as 'Jughead,' watched with wary suspicion as one of the black vehicles, an obnoxious-looking stretch hummer, pulled up in front of Pop's. He had been planning to meet Betty and the others here to hang out, but they were running a little late.

He watched as several of the vehicle's occupants, large, bulky-looking men in dark clothing and things and head-gear, exited the vehicle. Then, one of them strode towards the back of the vehicle and opened the door. Out of it strode a figure that... huh, Jughead could not really tell if they were male or female.

As for the bulky-looking men... the bulges at their sides were quite apparent.

This strange procession marched up to the door of Pop's. Then, one of the bulky men held open the door, and in strode the androgynous figure.

The person looked, in a word... obnoxious. In another word, they looked... eclectic. Their white-and-black clothes were eye-catching to an almost garish degree. They had a large nose, a thin face that made said nose even larger, and long, _white_ hair that went down to their waist. They wore fingerless gloves, and each fingernail was painted a different color.

The person was also looking down at their phone, their fingers going almost a mile a minute.

Jughead could not tear his eyes from the figure. It was... odd.

Pop ambled up to the figure and opened his mouth to give his customary warm welcome, only for one of the figure's companions, a burly-looking man, to interpose himself between the figure and Pop.

"Don't bother them while they are working," the man said. "To do so would be _very _rude, and you don't strike me as being a rude person. So close your mouth, and only speak when you have been spoken to."

Jughead felt himself go tense as the man loomed over Pop. "Am I understood?"

Then, the figure looked up, and their typing suddenly stopped. "That's okay. No need to be so gruff to the man, Mr. Map. Geez."

The figure's voice was nasal, high-pitched, and like the figure sounded neither male nor female.

They pushed past the now-identified 'Mr. Map,' and smiled at Pop. The figure had large teeth, and a slight gap between their two front molars, visible even from Jughead's table. "Hi. Now, before you ask, you can address me as 'Mx.' I'm non-binary. Anyhoo, now that that's out of the way, I think I'll sit..."

The figure's eyes, which were a startling blue, landed on Jughead, and they grinned. "... with that one."

Moving past Pop, the figure and their procession went over to Jughead's booth. Before Jughead could move, one of the men sat down next to him, blocking his way out. The strange person slid into the seat across from Jughead and smiled. "Hi. How are ya doing? What's your name?"

Jughead swallowed. "...Jughead."

The figure nodded as if that made sense for a name. "Jughead, right. Cool name, your parents must have been very imaginative. Right, but before this goes any further."

He raised his hand, and gestured over to Pop. "Mister? I would like to order."

Pop hesitantly walked over to Jughead's now-commandeered table, passing one of the bulky men who had positioned themselves in front of the door.

"Y-yes?" the fry-cook asked.

The figure smiled at the man. "Right, so I will have the following; a hamburger, with two thick patties, medium rare, and dill pickles, tomato, Monterey jack, pepper jack, cheddar, swiss, mushrooms, A-1, Lea&Perrins, jalapenos, lettuce (iceberg), ketchup, mustard, thousand island dressing, bacon, BBQ sauce, and Tobasco sauce. Make sure the buns are toasted, and I will have that with a chocolate milkshake, dark preferably. Got all that?"

Even to jughead, who loved burgers... that all sounded like a heart-attack waiting to happen.

Pop stood dumfounded for a good long moment. Then, Mr. Map, who was seated next to Jughead, grumbled. "Is there a problem with their order, sir?"

That snapped Pop out of his daze. "Uh... no sir. No problem at all. I'll get right on it. Gonna take a while, though, just so you know."

The person smiled. "Oh, that's alright. We're in no rush. Besides..."

They then turned to Jughead, who felt like a mouse staring down a cobra. "...That will just leave me some time to get to know my new friend here."

* * *

Throughout the rest of the town, more and more black trucks and vans pulled into the town and parking lots and on the curbsides. They were around the school, the southside, and even in front of Blossom manor.

Only the drivers exited the vehicles, though all they did was lean against the vehicles, and their faces were hidden by their head-gear.

The only one whose head was uncovered was a very tall, Slavic-looking man with pale skin and short-cropped hair. He leaned against his vehicle and lit a cigar. Many took note of what seemed to be knives hanging from a harness on his torso and waist and legs. There were _many_ knives.

This was noted by Arche Andrews, Betty Cooper, and Veronica Lodge, who had been on their way to meet Jughead at the diner when the strange trucks and men entered the town.

Now, they were hiding, trying to observe the strange men. "What do you think it's all about?" Archie asked.

"Not sure," said Betty. She then turned to Veronica. "Is it some new scheme of your dad's?"

The New York heiress/ socialite/ bar owner shrugged her decidedly teenage shoulders. "You honestly think he tells me about stuff like this? How should I even know?"

"Look," Archie interjected. "Let's not argue about this right now. They're not doing anything right now, so we should just act normally, right?"

Betty swallowed. "Yeah... I guess."

They then watched as FP, Jughead's father, and the current sheriff of Riverdale approached the smoking man.

* * *

Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Second, known to his family, few friends, several acquaintances, and many enemies as 'FP,' squared his shoulders and approached the tall Slavic man.

The man looked up at the sheriff's approach with extreme disinterest. "Yes?" he asked, in a gravelly voice, his mouth filled with smoke from his cigar.

FP was not a man who was easily cowed, but something felt... off about the man. Still, he would not back down. "Mind telling me what you're doing here?"

"No."

"Listen, Mr..."

"Call me Mr. Town."

Odd name. "Uh right... Mr. Town. I am the sheriff here, and it's my responsibility to make sure nothing untoward is occurring here. Now, you can either tell me what you're doing here, or I can haul you and the rest of your friends here in for disturbing the peace. Understood?"

Mr. Town righted himself from his leaning position, and all but loomed over FP, who was not a small man himself. In that moment, FP felt like a small fish before a shark.

Mr. Town sucked on his thick cancer-stick, the tip lighting up, and then he grinned. To FP's slight horror, the man's teeth were ridged and pointed... like a shark's. "Well," Mr. Town said. "Look at you. Acting so brave and strong. Like the big man on campus you barely were, right? All because daddy beat you one too many times, right?"

He took a step forward, and FP took a step back. "Listen, Mr-"

"So then you pushed away from the woman you loved, turned to drink, and became the town washout, and continued the cycle. Then, after one-too-many mishaps, you cleaned up, and now... here you are. The sheriff."

The man smirked. "Wow. What a storyline they cooked up for you, huh?"

* * *

"So..." the person said, as they stared at Jughead with their blue eyes, "you live in this little town, right?"

"Uh... yeah," Jughead replied.

"Did ya move here, or are you a 'born and raised' little bit of Riverdale?"

"...Born and raised."

"Well, isn't that nice? Now, let me see if I can guess the rest..."

They narrowed their eyes at him. "Oh yeah... born on the wrong side of the tracks, and daddy had a drinking problem. That made mommy and little sibling leave. So, you retreated into stories, hamburgers, and acting like a brooding know-it-all, and declining the company of women. Still, you found yourself gaining, _gasp_, friends, and then, to the wonderment of all, you fell in love with the girl-next-door! Then, you and your friends, all of whom are screwing each other, have gone on to solve a host of strange and odd mysteries and hijinks in this little town, all the while bemoaning your future, blah blah blah fucking blah!"

The person blinked and smiled. "Am I right?"

What.

The.

Hell?

Before Jughead could say anything, Pop returned with the person's order. It was a large burger, complete with fries and a shake.

They clapped their hands together and licked their lips. "Oh goody! Well, let's see if this lives up to the hype.

The androgynous person bit into the burger, the juices and ketchup and mustard and barbecue sauce and mayo and blood running down their chin with each bite.

Jughead loved his burgers, but he could not help but feel more than a bit queasy watching them eat.

"This... is a very tasty burger!" they exclaimed. "Probably the best I've ever eaten. It's so good, that I feel it is my civic duty to tell the cook himself."

He turned to Pop Tate. "Sir, for this burger I thank you! You deserved a freaking Michelin star for this!"

Pop swallowed. "Uh... much obliged."

"Yep, this is just so fucking delicious. You must have practiced a heck of a long time to get it just right. In fact, I have a question about that."

The person leaned forward, almost leering at Pop. "How long have ya been making these very tasty burgers of yours, 'Pop?'" the person asked.

Pop Tate swallowed again. "A good long time."

"Yeah, I fucking figured. I just asked how long? Twenty years? Thirty? Forty? Fifty?"

Tate's face looked like he was racking his brains for a number, and yet, for some reason... nothing appeared to come up.

Jughead felt a trickle of sweat crawl its way down his back.

The person shrugged as they took another bite. "Eh, I guess all the years tend to blend together after a while huh? Okay, then tell me this; yer a War veteran, right? Went overseas, fought for Uncle Sam, and all that shit, right?"

Pop was starting to look perturbed. "Listen, friend, I have to ask that you mind your tone-"

"What war did ya fight in? Korea? Vietnam? The big WW Two?"

As Pop continued to stammer, the figure took a final bite and wiped their mouth. "You really don't know, do ya? Oh well. Can't really blame ya for not remembering. I mean, it's not like we really crafted that much of an in-depth backstory for ya. Just a war vet, who knows how to make a very tasty burger!"

Tate's eyes went wide with confusion. "Wait, wha-"

The person gave a flippant "Eh, bored now! Let's get this shit on the road, shall we?"

They pressed a button on their phone, and a loud claxon echoed throughout the town, making Jughead cringe.

Behind Tate, one of the black-garbed men raised a strange gun to the back of Pop's head and fired.

At the same moment, the rest of the goons opened fire on everyone else in the diner, as Mr. Map shoved a taser into Jughead's neck...

* * *

As the loud sound resonated throughout Riverdale, Archie and the others watched in horror as gunshots rang throughout the town, along with the screams, while FP's neck was quickly slashed wide open by the Slavic man.

The Sheriff crumpled to the ground bonelessly.

They hardly made it more than two steps before they were surrounded, and pinned to the ground.

The tall Slavic man grinned a mouthful of shark's teeth as screams continued to fill the air. His many knives rattled with each step he took, while the one in his hand dripped with FP's blood. "Well, well, well, what do we have here? Three little mice tried to scurry away?"

He loomed over them as Betty and the others continued to struggle. Around them, bullets continued to fly. "You three are very important to my boss's plans. All of this?" He gestured to the carnage about them. "It's for you. As such, I think it only polite that you do what we say."

"So, you can either come without a fuss..." he held up three dog collars and leashes that he withdrew from a pouch at his side. "...or I'll have to get nasty."

He then held up his bloody knife.

He grinned his shark's grin again. "Excellent choice. Strip them."

Betty did her best to remain impassive as the men tore off all her clothing, including her underwear, socks, and shoes, and even her hair ties.

The breeze clawed at her now bare flesh, just as it clawed at the bare bodies of her friends.

Leashes around their necks and hands cuffed behind their backs, Betty and her friends were led/ dragged naked through the town.

All around them, bullets flew, and their fellow town members died. Not even the children were spared.

They were pulled into Pop's and forced to kneel before an androgynous figure alongside Jughead who was similarily stripped and leashed.

The person looked over Betty and the others with blue eyes. "So... here they are. Beautiful. A bit sad that this..." they gestured outside to the carnage, "... had to be done, but, alas... Even good art has to disappear sometime.

"Why?" Betty said. "Why are you doing all this!? WHAT DID WE EVER DO TO YOU!?"

The person looked at her as if amused by her outburst. "To answer that, I want to ask you all a question... Do you remember what it was like, before highschool?"

None of the four teens had been expecting that. "Wh-what?" Veronica stammered.

"Do you remember playing in the grass as toddlers? Do you actually remember what the playground at which you played during recess looked like in elementary school?"

Betty desperately racked her brains for an answer, and yet... she could not. It was if they were supposed to be there... but they were not.

The figure then leaned in close to them, until Betty could just about see her reflection in its teeth. "I really hate to have to break it to you, but your whole belief that you're 'real?'" the figure said, with air quotes.

Its smile then turned beyond sinister. "Sorry, but that's fake news!" The figure's face then split into a smile wider than should have been possible for a human's face. "FAKE NEWS!"

He then gestured to the rest of the men. "Alright, now that their minds have been sufficiently broken, it's time to head out! Load them up, along with everything else.

The last thing Betty felt was something being jabbed into her neck...

* * *

Stuart Strezenov chuckled as the four things, now asleep, were loaded into their containment pods. As he watched, he idly cracked his knuckles. He loved this new body, a sign of Mr. World's magnanimity. He felt stronger, faster, _greater_.

He even loved his new codename.

He then turned to his superior. "Mx. Are we ready to depart?"

The Technical Kid smiled their gigawatt grin. "Sure are, Mr. Town. Tell the boss that everything is peachy keen!"

Mr. Map then approached them. "There's no need... _because I already know." _

Stuart and the Technical Kid turned and watched as the being piloting Mr. Map's body stood in front of them. It looked around through the body's eyes and smiled a razor's edge. _"Nicely done. I was starting to get bored with this experiment. How are my four?"_

The Technical kid chuckled. "Ripe and ready, Sir! Just need ta finish up here, and then we can move out."

_"Good. I shall meet with you when you arrive."_

A moment later, Mr. Map fell to the ground briefly, like a puppet with cut strings.

The Technical kid then reached into their pocket...

* * *

If one were able to watch what happened next, they would have witnessed an odd sight; the dead bodies of the townfolk, all being loaded up into strange pods and hauled into trucks.

They would have also watched, entranced, as the Technical Kid set in the center of the now-empty town a strange-looking cube. They would then watch as the cube emitted strange green light, and everything the light touched, it _folded _in on itself, like paper.

It kept going like this, smaller and smaller and smaller, until every last single trace of Riverdale, a town with secrets and lies...

_was gone._

* * *

"What was all that!?" Reggie exclaimed as he and Toni and Cheryl fled through the woods, while all the last of the strange trucks vanished down the highway.

The three, having grown closer to one another over the past months, during all the craziness that had been going on in the town, had met at Dilton Doiley's bunker for a rendevous.

It was a strange thing, what had been growing between them, but... not unwelcome, even if Reggie thought that it would only be a temporary situation at best. Sooner or later, the girls would cut him loose, and he would be adrift once again in the wind.

Just like with Veronica.

But, as they met here, and had started getting down to brass tacks in the bunker, they suddenly heard gunfire.

Through the periscope, they each watched with horror as the town became awash in a hail of bullets, and as bodies were all piled up.

They could not bear to watch anymore, and simply hid in the bunker, hands over their ears.

After a while, they gunfire ceased, but they still waited for another hour.

One hour passed by at an agonizing pace, and they huddled in fear.

Finally, Toni decided to climb out of the bunker, with Cheryl and Reggie following behind her.

To their shock and horror, Riverdale was...

Gone.

Every last bit of it, from the Southside to the school.

It was all gone.

As if it had never existed.

"Wha- What the hell happened!?" Reggie exclaimed.

They were all gone. His parents, his friends...

Cheryl shook her head, her scarlet tresses waving about. "I don't know. I don't know."

Toni sighed. "Well, we can't stay here now, can we? Let's get to the road."

As they started to walk, they heard the sound of a car engine. As the town was gone, there was nowhere for them to hide. So, the three teenagers prepared to sell their lives dearly, despite how short an amount of time that would probably take.

The car pulled to a stop before them. Then, its occupants stepped out.

They were a man and a woman.

The man was a tall redhead, and his most distinguishing features were the mass abundance of burn-scars that trailed all the way down the left side of his face.

The woman was very beautiful and carried at her side a curved saber. Her hair was long, brown, and bound up in an intricate braid, and her eyes were a clear and pale blue.

Both of them were dressed in black suits and ties, with a black long coat.

The man looked about, scanning the area with his strange golden eyes. Then he spoke. "Shit," he said, in a raspy voice, as if his vocal cords had been damaged, no doubt by whatever had caused his burns.

The woman then spoke as well, in a soft accent. "You better alert them. They'll want to know."

"Yeah yeah."

As he replied, the man reached into the bag at his side and pulled out a glowing gem wrought into a rather odd shape. Then, it began to float and spin.

From the strange gem emanated a distorted voice. _"Well, Flare? What is the situation? Did you and Gem make it there on time?"_

Flare shook his head. "We're too late. The town's already been wiped clean off the map."

_"That is... unfortunate." _The voice sighed. _"It seems they are starting to clean house_."

"Indeed. But, we managed to find three survivors."

_"Survivors?"_

Flare turned his golden eyes to Reggie and Cheryl and Toni. "That is correct. What should we do with them?"

There was something in his tone that set Reggie's fear switch to a firm and rigid 'on.'

The voice did not reply for a moment, while 'Gem' and 'Flare,' simply waited. Then, it spoke again. _"Take them with you to the drop point. We'll be picking you up there. They might have some use."_

"Understood," replied Flare. "For the Glory of Yggdmillenia."

"For the Glory of Yggdmillenia,' Gem echoed.

_"For the Glory of the Golden Millenium Tree."_

The gem then softly floated back into Flare's hand.

He then looked at the four teens. "Before you say anything, understand that you are miles from the next nearest town, and you will more than likely die of exposure. So your only real option is to come with us."

"Don't worry," Gem said. "We will keep you safe."

Reggie looked at Cheryl and Toni.

What else could they do?

* * *

_Now, _

_Greendale,_

_Spellman Residence_

_Monday_

_November 23rd._

Ambrose and Sabrina burst into the house, with Ambrose carrying the comatose Harvey in his arms, wrapped up tightly in the blanket.

Aunt Zelda and Hilda did not pounce with a flurry of questions and simply led the little procession to the bathroom.

With a gesture, Aunt Zelda sent the water to fill the tub. Once it was full, they gently set him into the water. Said water quickly turned dirty and red. Through it all, Harvey shivered uncontrollably.

As they cleaned him and wrapped him in blankets and towels and bound up his wounds, he remained dead to the world, though he seemed to be mumbling in his sleep and shivering.

Through it all, Sabrina found herself fretting for her boyfriend, while Salem rubbed against her cheek on her shoulder.

Later, as he slumbered in Ambrose's bed, the Spellman clan huddled around the kitchen table.

"Well, none of his wounds is anything serious, save for the stitches in his head having torn," said Aunt Zelda, as she washed the blood off her hands into the sink. "But, aside from that, he is rather healthy... for a mortal."

"What happened to him?" Sabrina asked.

Aunt Zelda shrugged, and her face was pensive. "I am not sure, but... some of those wounds, they looked like claw marks..."

All of a sudden, the phone began to ring. Aunt Hilda was the first to answer it. "Spellman Mortuary, may I ask who's calling?"

Aunt Hilda went dead silent for a good moment. "I see. Well, we will be right there."

She hung up the phone. "Who on earth was that?" Aunt Zelda asked.

Aunt Hilda's face was quite grave. "That was the police... It seems there was a... well, she described it as a 'massacre.' A massacre at the Kinkle house. The Sheriff, wants us to... pick up the... bits and pieces that are left."

Aunt Zelda exchanged glances with Sabrina for a long moment and then squared her shoulders. "Well, let us be off then, shall we?"

* * *

_Later_

_The Kinkle Residence. _

Zelda Spellman had seen a great deal over her very long life. She had witnessed the inhumanity of the battlefield and had seen nameless horrors rise up and devour mean and women whole, and other such things.

But this... she had not been expecting this.

Every inch of the house looked as if it had been splashed with blood and viscera.

Entire pieces of the wall and furniture were destroyed. At one point, she could see a scalp, lying on a shattered ottoman.

"What... what happened here?" she heard Hilda ask.

The local sheriff, Eliza Evernever, shrugged. "Honestly... best we can tell, an animal tore its way through."

"Any survivors?" Zelda inquired, as she gingerly loaded a skull into the bag, noting what seemed to be _bite _marks on its cranium.

"Matter of act, there might be."

Zelda raised her eyebrow at that odd phrasing. "Might be?"

"Yep. We found Mr. Kinkle. Though, he's not responsive. Whatever did all this? It did one heck of a number on him. Might be better for all if the poor bastard just... slipped away."

_Ugh, could mortals have any less tact? _Zelda thought as she put a severed testicle into a bag.

"But, for now, we just need you two to identify who's who in this mess," the sheriff said. "See if anyone's... missing."

Zelda thought about Sabrina's little _friend _as the sheriff said that. "Of course. Happy to help, Sheriff Evernever."

* * *

Invisible to all present, even the two other Spellman witches, Lilith eyed the scene about her with curiosity, stroking her chin as she looked around.

"Hmmm... Perhaps things have gotten a bit more interesting."

* * *

_Spellman Residence_

Sabrina sat by Harvey's side as he slept, tossing and turning in his sleep. Salem still rested on her shoulder, sharing in her concern.

She heard Ambrose's footsteps behind her. "Anything yet?" he asked.

"No. Nothing."

Ambrose put a hand on Sabrina's free shoulder. "Chin up, cous'. He'll wake up."

Sabrina hoped so. She really did.

* * *

_Walker Residence_

Roz sat on her bed, her mind heavy with thought.

_"You know, the more you try to repress it, the more you deny it... the worse it will get. At best, you'll end up a cackling, insane madwoman, eking out her days on society's fringes. At worse? You'll be a drooling vegetable. It might just be intuition, but I don't think you want to be either of those things, right?"_

Roz rubbed at her temples. Ever since she had seen... what she had seen, a small headache had been building. It didn't _hurt, _per se, it was just there.

It had gotten worse last night when she had had a dream about fangs and claws and blood.

She had almost woken up screaming.

Since today, the entire town was shut down to mourn Tommy's death, she had very little to do.

She then came to a decision.

She stood up, told her parents she was going into town for a while, and then headed to the Nameless Inn.

With every step, a fragment of trepidation etched itself into her soul, until the moment she approached the Nameless inn.

Outside of a rocking chair sat Touko, smoking a cigarette. The woman looked up at Roz's approach and smirked. "Right on time," she said. "Let's get started, shall we?"

* * *

Sabrina stepped outside to get some fresh air. She needed to think, to clear her head.

As she did, she saw her Aunt's van pull up into the driveway, and she watched as Aunt Zelda stepped out of the vehicle with a pensive expression on her face.

"What's wrong," she asked as her Aunts trudged up the porch stairs, carrying a large assortment of body bags as they did so.

Neither Aunt Zelda or Aunt Hilda said anything as she followed them inside and down to the mortuary. Then, once the bags were deposited onto the embalming table, Aunt Zelda took a deep breath and turned to Sabrina. "My dear. Has... has your _friend_ woken up yet?"

Why would she be interested in that? "Uh, no. Not yet."

Aunt Zelda let loose a heavy sigh. "When he does, let me know, alright?"

"Why?"

"Don't argue with me about this, Sabrina. Please."

Sabrina wanted to inquire more, but the look on her aunt's face silenced her. "Okay. Fine. Just don't hurt him, okay?"

Before anything else was said, Ambrose rushed downstairs. "Hey, he's awake."

At that, Sabrina practically bolted upstairs, followed by her aunts and cousin.

They entered the room to find Harvey weakly sitting upright in the bed, all but cocooned by the blankets they had layered on him.

He looked at them all with bloodshot eyes. "Sabrina?" he softly said.

She gingerly embraced him. "Oh, thank god," she said. "We were so worried about you."

"H-how did I get here?" he asked.

"You don't remember?" Sabrina asked, with confusion.

As Harvey shook his head, Aunt Zelda strode up. "You were found walking up to our house naked and covered in blood, Mr. Kinkle."

His eyes widened at that. "Wh-what?"

"We just came from your house. Your family is dead. They were all torn apart, as if by a wild animal."

Before Sabrina could admonish her aunt for her brusque tone of voice/ react in shock at this... Harvey started to weep.

"What happened, Harvey?" Sabrina asked as she turned back to her boyfriend.

"I... I don't know..." Harvey said, his voice a hoarse whisper. "I don't know."

Then, he threw up again, his eyes rolled up into his head, and he collapsed back onto the bed.

* * *

Outside, The white raven sat perched upon the branch, and its black eyes softly glowed...

* * *

_The next day_

_Tuesday,_

_November 24th_

_Spellman Residence_

Harvey had slept through the rest of the day and night and then had woken up early in the morning, and asked if there was anything to eat, though he still felt too weak to move.

Aunt Hilda had set about feeding him at once while he remained abed. He in turn proceeded to devour an entire loaf of bread, half a rasher of bacon, and a carton of eggs.

It was impressive.

As there was still some time before school, Sabrina went up to check on him again and found him devouring his fifth apple.

"Feeling better?" she asked.

He looked up and swallowed. "Yeah, I think so. Your aunt's a great cook."

"That she is." Her smile then left her face. "So... do you remember anything yet? Anything at all?"

He shook his head. "I... I don't. The last thing I remember, I went back to the house, and then... I think I got into it with my dad?"

"Really? What happened?"

"I..."

Sabrina leaned in. "What? Harvey, what happened?"

He looked up at her, and for some reason, tears were running down his face. He then cradled his face into his hands and began to cry. "I don't know... I'm crying, and I don't know why, 'Brina'. I don't know why."

As he continued to weep, Sabrina could do little else but take him into her arms.

Eventually, though, she had to leave for school.

* * *

_Baxter High_

At school, the first announcement of the day was a somber one, telling of the Kinkle family's horrid demise though, "the police have not released too many details."

There was also chatter that Harvey was missing, and Sabrina did her best not to appear too nervous at that announcement.

Odd though, Roz seemed distracted for most of the day, though Susie spoke to Sabrina, saying that she hoped Harvey was alright...

* * *

_Spellman Residence_

While the Aunt's Cain and Abel were downstairs examining body parts, Ambrose was left having to deal with Harvey.

Not that there was anything wrong with that, as Ambrose had taken a liking to Sabrina's little mortal paramour. It was just that, as a quasi-immortal warlock currently on indefinite house arrest (at least if Luke's appeal did not go through), Ambrose did not feel best qualified for dealing with an obviously traumatized teenager who appeared to be equipped with a bottomless void for a stomach.

Most of the time, though, the boy just slept.

Then, the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," Ambrose called to the house, as he trudged to the door.

Ambrose answered the door. On the other side were a member of the local police force. "Hello," they said.

"Good morning," Ambrose replied. "Can I help you with something, officer?"

"Not sure. Have you seen Harvey Kinkle around?"

...

Oh, dear.

Keeping his face schooled in neutrality, Ambrose answered the question. "Can't say that I have? May I ask why you're looking for him?"

"Your aunts called in earlier to the Sheriff. Most of the Kinkle family is accounted for... except for Mr. Harvey. Seeing as this is his girlfriend's house, we thought it only logical to ask around, see if anyone's seen him. So, I'll ask again; have you seen him lately?"

Ambrose's face felt as smooth and impassive as worn stone. "No office. We have not."

The officer looked at Ambrose for a long, silent moment, and then nodded. "Alright then. You have a good day, Mr. Spellman."

Ambrose watched as the police officer into the car and drove away.

Well, it seemed as if things were becoming rather complicated.

Oh, dear.

* * *

After returning from school, Sabrina was told by Ambrose what had happened earlier, and then he and their aunts and Sabrina had a dinner-room meeting to discuss their options.

Said family meeting was, as expected, not much of a light and cheerful thing.

"Are you crazy, Aunt Zelda!?" Sabrina exclaimed. "We are not turning my boyfriend in. He didn't do anything!"

"We're not saying that my dove," Aunt Hilda stammered. "They just want to know where he is, and maybe ask a few questions."

"Although," Aunt Zelda then said, as a fresh cigar dangled from her fingers, "it does seem rather suspicious."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Sabrina asked, with arms crossed.

"We don't know what happened that night, but many of the wounds on the bodies below looked like claw and teeth marks. I think that boy knows something, and he's not talking. Even if he does not, it's too dangerous for him to stay here," she said, with a puff of smoke. "The last thing we need is mortal police knocking on our door."

The conversation did not really go much further after that and dissolved into a mist of arguments and squabbling.

* * *

Backstage

_Tonight's lesson was on a host of things, involving necromancy, runes, and gem magecraft. It was all interesting, and she seemed to get a quick handle on it, but Sabrina could not help but fret about Harvey. _

_Though she thought she hid it well, it seemed that Mr. Wednesday could tell that something was on her mind. _"You seem a bit distracted, my dear,"_ he said. _"Is something the matter?"

_She looked at her teacher. _"Did you hear about what happened at the Kinkle house?"

"A bit. Such a nasty business, all of that. Why do you ask?"

"Well..."

_After the utterance of that one word, it all poured out of Sabrina's mouth. She told her teacher everything, and he listened with a pensive expression on his bearded face. _

"I see,"_ he said after she fell silent. _"That is indeed quite worrisome. Let me ask you something; do you think he had anything to do with this, what happened?"

_Sabrina adamantly shook her head. _ "Hell no! I know Harvey. He wouldn't hurt a fly, much less his entire family!"

"Even after learning that they weren't his family?"

_Sabrina just shook her head again. _"Nope. It just wouldn't happen."

_He nodded. _"Good. So, now that that is settled... I do believe that I can help..."

"Really? How?"

_In lieu of a verbal answer, all she got was a smile..._

* * *

Sabrina woke up. Softly as she could, she snuck over to the room where Harvey slept.

With as little noise as possible, she shook him awake. "Harvey. Wake up."

"Huh? Sabrina?" he whispered back.

"Listen. The police came by here, and they were looking for you. Now, I was just talking with Mr. Wednesday. He can get you somewhere safe. But I need you to trust me. Can you do that? Please?"

Harvey looked at her with confusion but nodded all the same. "Yeah. Yes, I do. Always."

"Good. Now, hold tight to my hand, okay?"

Hesitantly, he put his hand into hers.

She closed her eyes for a moment, and concentrated, as her circuits briefly glowed to life. She then raised her finger and started to trace in the air the rune that Mr. Wednesday had taught to her.

As the air filled with power, outside, the wind howled.

She then opened her eyes and whispered the rune's name.

_"Ehwaz."_

There was a sensation of light on her skin, a brief flash, and then, the two found themselves... in a cabin. A nice, spacious cabin.

"Welcome," came a familiar voice.

Sabrina and Harvey turned to behold Mr. Wednesday, sitting in a rocking chair, and smoking his pipe.

He spread out his hands. "Welcome to your current home, my boy."

Sabrina looked about. "Where is this place?"

"It's a cabin, hidden deep in the woods. Neither witch nor mortal will find this place, I promise you that."

Before either teen could say anything else, he held up a hand. "You both still have many questions, I understand, and they will all be answered in due time. And rest assured, Sabrina, you will be able to visit this place at any time using the rune I taught you. But now, you should get back to your home. As for your aunts..."

* * *

_Spellman Residence_

_The Next Day, _

_Wednesday, _

_November 25th_

"...So he promised to help Harvey." Sabrina finished. "And now he's in a safe place."

Aunt Zelda, Aunt Hilda, and Ambrose all stared at her in silence.

"That Irish boy you met at the Academy helped you with this?" Aunt Zelda reiterated.

"Yep," Sabrina said. "Turns out, he has some property here, and, after I told him about what was going on, he offered to help. Plus, he's really good with runes and such. So, voila!"

Silence once again reigned.

"... Right, well, as long as he's out of our hair, it's not our problem, is it?" Aunt Zelda then said flippantly.

Sabrina resisted letting loose a breath of relief.

So far so good, it seemed.

* * *

_Cairo, Illinois_

The bespectacled man dipped his quill pen (a falcon's, naturally), and continued to write.

_After that, the days slowly passed into the week, while wanted posters inquiring as to the whereabouts of Harvey were posted around the town. _

_During this time, Mr. Kinkle remained in a coma at the local hospital. _

_Whenever she could, Sabrina visited Harvey up in that cabin in the Mountains. The rest of the time, she was either at home, school, or at the Academy, learning all that she could about binding and such while continuing her friendship with Rey Nardvos. _

_She remained unaware of the role that the Weird Sisters had played in the demise of Tommy Kinkle._

_At the same time, her tutelage under Touko and Wednesday continued to progress at an astounding rate. _

_Harvey, meanwhile, could do little but walk around the premises of the cabin's acreage... and draw with charcoal, pencils, ink, and paper provided by Mr. Wednesday. Most of the time, he drew pictures of the mountains, Sabrina, and his brother, and his friends. _

_Oddly enough, any knowledge he had had of being a werewolf had vanished from his mind, as well as the memory of his parentage. _

_Susie continued to converse with the spirit of her ancestor, Dorothea, and found her courage growing every day. Already, it felt too big for her small frame. Of course, it was during those conversations that she learned of the existence of witches._

_Zelda continued to murder her sister when the mood struck her, though now the attacks had dwindled to once a week, at most. _

_Hilda, when she was not being reanimated, enjoyed her job at Dr. Cerberus, and enjoyed the normality that the job brought to this period of her long, and hardship-filled, life. _

_Ambrose Spellman's house arrest was lifted by the Dark Council, and so he planned to enjoy his new-found freedom with Luke, the boy that he had come to know and love._

_During all of this, the mind of Rosalind 'Roz' Walker was being expanded and filled with new knowledge by the Magician of Blue. _

_At the same time, all that entered the mind of the Reverend Anderson... was an expectant peace. _

_So, as written earlier, a week passed, the cool hand of December began to extend its frosty fingers, and the dark things that watched and dwelled over and under the town of Greendale started to grow impatient. _

_Among them was the being known as Satan and the creature who was named Lilith. _

_Let it be known that the consequences of the impatience of Dark things can often be... quite dire..._

* * *

_One Week later,_

_December 3rd, _

_Thursday_

_The House of Mary Wardwell_

_A few minutes to midnight_

Not for the first time, Lilith found herself admiring Mary Wardwell's taste in comfy chairs. This particular one... she just wanted to all but sink into it.

Meanwhile, the grandfather clock ticked, and the fire crackled.

She looked at the clock with her stolen eyes and smirked. "My, oh my. Look at the time," she said to her guest, who sat opposite her in the room.

"It's almost midnight. Very nearly the time of night that many would call 'the witching hour," she continued, with a chuckle. "If only they knew just how apropos that was."

She swirled a glass of Mary's finest alcohol. "Worry not, my dear. There's still time enough for one more story about dear little Sabrina. One more story as she takes one more step towards fulfilling the Dark Lord's great prophecy. I will admit, she may have.. avoided some steps, and while I was not as... involved as I had hoped to be... I believe that I managed to still nudge her in the right direction."

She took a sip. "Honestly," she said after swallowing her mouthful, "it's simply a wonder that anyone in this little town was surprised by what happened the night of the storm."

"After all," she said with a shrug. "All of the signs were there... at least if you knew where to look."

* * *

_A dead bird brought in by a cat._

* * *

_Academy of Unseen Arts_

_Monday Night, _

_November 31st_

There was a cat, a wild stray, that could often be seen wandering about the town and forests of Greendale. The feline came and went as it pleased, as most felines, domesticated or otherwise, were wont to do. Most in the town left the creature alone, though it found that some could be relied upon for a fresh fish carcass or a saucer of milk now and again.

On this particular evening, this cat, with its dark fur and hide scarred and torn from a wild and rough existence, wandered onto the premises of the Academy of Unseen Arts. As cats are more attuned to the supernatural, this was not a difficult task.

So, it made it's way inside, with a dispatched dove hanging from its jaws...

* * *

_A spilled bottle of black ink._

* * *

_The Cabin in the Mountains_

As Harvey added in the details on his latest drawing, the bottle of ink spilled over onto the sheet of paper, and he let loose a small curse as his picture became ruined...

* * *

_A broken mirror in an empty room. _

* * *

_Putnam Residence_

As Susie left the bathroom and headed towards her room through the upstairs reclining room, her hands firmly in her warm and comfy pockets in her warm and comfy robe, she failed to notice the room's mirror... and the large crack that spiderwebbed all over it.

* * *

_A fresh-baked loaf of bread, split clean down the middle as it rose to completion in the oven._

* * *

_Spellman House_

As Hilda lowered the oven door on its hinges, she spied her newest loaf of bread, and her face dropped. "Oh, bloody hell," she murmured under her breath.

* * *

_A blind woman knitting her own death shroud, all too aware of what was coming._

* * *

_Walker Residence_

The school hours came, and the school hours went, as did the weekdays and the weekend. Through it all, just as she had been that first night, Roz's mind felt abuzz with all that Touko had been telling her.

Magic was real.

Magic was real, and she was a seer.

Also, whenever she touched Sabrina, she had gotten a vision of blinding light, so that had been weird.

_"It's all in your eyes, pretty girl. Right now, all you can do is touch an object and see everything that happened about it, or the truth of it. But, I think you can do more. I can feel it. So, after you feel up to it, the two of us should pay a visit to your grandmother. This kind of thing usually is genetic, after all."_

So, once her parents had left, she let Touko in.

Nana Ruth did not react with surprise as Roz and Touko entered her room. She merely smiled, as she turned her sightless toward Roz's new... teacher?

Nana Ruth then chuckled. "Well, well. If it ain't Ole Lady Blue herself."

Touko smirked. "Hello there, little Ruth."

Roz watched in confusion as Touko gave her grandmother a tender hug. "Wait, you two know each other?"

Her grandmother chuckled again. "Well, of course, we do, precious. Me and Lady Blue here, we go back quite a bit."

"That we do," said Touko. "You look good."

Nana Ruth patted Touko's hand and then felt her arms and face. "And you feel... different, Lady Blue. Stronger."

"What can I say," the magician said. "I keep my self refreshed. That, and I started one _hell_ of an exercise regimen a while back. Real out-of-body stuff."

Nana Ruth chuckled. "Glad to hear. But... I know you're not here to chat about old times. You want to talk about the cunning, right?"

"Right on the money, Ruth. Right on the money."

Nana Ruth then turned to Roz. "Well? Ask away. But, while you do, would you mind helping me with my knitting? It'll go faster with two, after all."

Roz swallowed as she sat next to her grandmother and took up the red twine and needles. For a long while, nothing was said, and the two knit in silence, while Touko lounged in her chair.

Then, Roz took a deep breath and spoke. "Nana. It's like you predicted. I've started to see things. Things that I would have thought to be impossible a week ago before I started learning from Miss Touko. And one of those things..."

She remembered, again, the pillar of light that had been her friend Sabrina.

It had been so beautiful...

She then lay her needles in her lap and took a deep breath. "I think that my friend, Sabrina Spellman... I think she's a witch."

Nana Ruth nodded. "Could be, child. Could very well be."

Even though that pillar of light had been so beautiful, a dark thought crossed Roz's mind. "Nana... you told me that witches cursed us Walker women, and that's why so many of us are blind?"

Roz heard Touko let out a snort at that, to which Nana Ruth sent a slight glare her way with blind eyes, before turning her overall attention back to Roz. "That's how the story goes, at least."

Roz swallowed again, and then let the dark thought come forward. "Was... was it a Spellman who put this curse on our family?"

Her grandmother 'looked' up from her knitting, while Touko leaned forward in her seat.

Nana Ruth then shook her head. "Oh, no child. Please, don't ever think such dark thoughts. You know your friend. You know her, you know in your heart if she's good or bad, and you don't need any cunning to tell you that."

Despite herself, Roz let loose a shaky breath. Nana Rose was right. Sabrina, smart, funny, brave, beautiful Sabrina... she was good.

As radiant as that pillar of light...

Her grandmother leaned back in her seat. "Besides, what the cunning tells me is that she is not the person, the _witch_ that you need to be fearing."

That caught Roz's and Touko's attentions, as Nana Ruth continued to speak. "The Thirteen, they are coming, child, Lady Blue. They're coming, and they'll descend upon this town like the wrath of..." her brow furrowed. "Not God... but something near as powerful, only twisted."

Roz felt confused. "The Thirteen?" she asked.

"They were witches," Touko answered, as she flexed her fingers as if she were itching for a cigarette. "Thirteen powerful witches that were tortured and hung here in Greendale, during the witch hunts."

Nan Rose nodded at that. "Indeed. They're coming back, and may the Lord have mercy on our souls. Because they most certainly won't."

Little else was said after that, and later, while Roz continued to help with the knitting, Touko left with a grin.

* * *

_The Next Day_

_Tuesday, December 1st_

_Baxter High_

As ever, the air at the school was filled with gossip and things. As it had been for the past several days, most of that gossip was about Harvey.

As she walked through the hallways, she overheard one group of students discuss how it seemed more and more likely that Harvey had 'gone totally psycho, killed his family, and was now on the run.'

It took a lot of restraint for Sabrina not to scream at them for that.

HARVEY WAS NOT LIKE THAT!

But she said nothing. Instead, all she did was tiredly sigh, and trudge to the girl's bathroom.

As she stepped inside, she noted that Roz and Susie were there as well. The two of them had been acting oddly lately.

As she walked past them to the final sink, they looked up. "Sabrina," they both said.

She gave them a small smile. "Roz. Susie."

The expressions on their faces were pensive, and she gave a nervous chuckle. "What's going on, guys?"

The two looked at each other for another moment, and then they stepped back, with Roz crossing her arms. "'Brina, we want..."

What was going on?

As Sabrina turned to wash her hands, Roz collected herself and then continued. "We need to ask you-"

"Are you a witch?" Susie blurted out.

The moment those words left Susie's lips, it felt as if time slowed to a crawl. The question seemed to reverberate over and over again in Sabrina's skull.

After a moment that felt like an eternity, she collected herself and turned to her two friends with a look of bemused disbelief and a shaky chuckle. "What? C'mon, you guys. if this is some kind of joke-"

"It's not a joke, Sabrina," Roz interjected resolutely. "It turns out, the women in my family have a gift of... _seeing._ My grandmother calls it 'the cunning.' And recently, it showed me something. It was a vision. It was you, and you were a shining pillar of light. And though it was beautiful... it wasn't human."

What?

Susie then spoke up as she rubbed at her hands. "And... my Aunt Dorothea... she wrote about you in her journals. In them, she wrote that the Spellmans were a family of witches.

Sabrina wanted to deny again, to try and convince them that they were wrong, that it was all nonsense. Harvey was already mixed up in this, she did not want them mixed up too.

And yet... Sabrina just felt tired. She felt so tired, so fucking tired of all the secrets.

Before she knew it, her back was against the wall, and she was sliding to the floor with tears in her eyes.

"'Brina?" Roz said, worry in her voice warring with condemnation.

Sabrina shook her head as the tears started to come forth. "I wanted to tell you guys so many times. But... I mean, how could I? It took so long just to tell Harvey, and now, with everything else that's been happening..."

"Wait, Harvey knows!?" Roz asked.

Sabrina nodded. "I told him the week of Halloween. He wanted to tell you guys as well, but I... I just couldn't. I'm sorry."

"Do you know where he is?" Susie asked.

Sabrina nodded. "The morning after Tommy's funeral, he staggered up to the house. He was covered in blood. Then, the cops came by. I think they think he killed his family. So, he's in hiding. Mr. Wednesday, he's like me, he has Harvey somewhere safe. Up in the mountains."

She looked up at her friends. "I'm so, so sorry guys. I'm sorry. All the lying. I've been hiding this whole other life, going to this whole other school."

"What do you mean?" Susie interjected, confusion plain on her face.

"It's a school for witches. But please, I am still the same person, you have to believe me!"

For a long moment, nothing was said. Then, Roz and Susie walked up to her and crouched beside her.

Then, before they knew it, they were all hugging. "It's okay, 'Brina," Roz whispered.

"It's going to be okay," continued Susie.

* * *

On the other side of the mirror, Lilith listened to the conversation with interest. "So the boy's up in the mountains, all alone, is he?"

She smiled a smile that would have made a razor look dull.

* * *

Outside the office of Mary Wardwell, a white raven with black eyes sat perched on the closest tree, its glowing eyes centered on the mother of demons...

* * *

_December 3rd, _

_Thursday_

_The House of Mary Wardwell_

_Almost Midnight_

Honestly," Lilith continued to her guest. "It was like the opportunity was just falling into my lap," she said with a chuckle. "Even if I was disappointed at just how Sabrina's little mortal friends were rallying around her, like maggots on a wound."

She shook her head. "Honestly, it was just astounding. Despite all my manipulations, despite everything they learned about dear Sabrina, her friends would just not be cleaved from her."

Lilith's face grew a bit somber as she idly looked into her glass. "The Dark Lord was growing a bit... impatient with me. As such, I felt it best to change tactics. So, I decided that I would introduce a threat to Greendale, a threat of such magnitude that it would compel Sabrina to make certain choices. Choices that would, in turn... force her to have to separate from them.

"Now, as for the threat, I... did have an idea or two... or rather, thirteen of them."

She smiled again at her guest. "Thirteen wonderful ideas... and they were buried right under our noses.

* * *

_Tuesday, December 1st._

_But to do so, I would have to wait until midnight, the witching hour. _

Lilith strode out of Mr. Wardwell's office, and down the hallway. As she did, she locked eyes with one of the town's football players. The town's team had been in a bit of a bind ever since their star players had been in that terrible accident.

This one looked healthy enough. When he looked at her, she could practically smell the lust dripping from his pores.

He would do.

_And I would need a warm body. _

* * *

_Academy of Unseen Arts, Late Afternoon._

Inside the main hallway, Sabrina sat on one of the stairways.

A moment later, she was joined by Rey.

The redhead quirked an eye at her. "Ye look like shite, lass. Yew alright?"

Ignoring his language, Sabrina looked at her friend and shrugged. "Just tired, I guess. It's been a long week."

He said nothing, and just gently pat her on the shoulder.

The sound of footsteps made the pair look up at the approach of the Weird Sisters. "Well, well, if it isn't the little half-breed and her pet fox," said Prudence.

Then, her face took on the fake approximation of condoling pity. "I heard about what happened to your mortal paramour's family. It's just such a tragedy, to lose one's family... and then to be thought guilty for it. Last I heard, he had vanished. Well, they do say the guilty are the ones who run, so, guess that's that."

As she smirked and started to walk away with her sisters in tow, Prudence clasped her hands together in a mockery of prayer. "Still, our thoughts and prayers, half-breed. That is how the saying goes, right?"

As Sabrina glared at their backs, Rey presented a pair of flipped birds towards the trio as they sashayed off. "Fookin' cunts," he said.

Sabrina could not agree more. Then, Rey spoke again. "I can tell by the look in yer eye that ye know where yer little mortal lover-boy is?"

Sabrina nodded. "I do, and if my aunts come asking around towards you, then you know where he is, and you helped me hide him."

He chuckled. "Righto, missy. How is he, by the way?"

Sabrina sighed. "His name is Harvey and he's... he's strong."

Rey nodded knowingly. "Aye. Not a blow anyone can recover from easily... losin' one's kinfolk like that."

Then, his smile turned softer. "Still... at least he has you. You and yer love. 'Tis one of the things I envy about mortals. That lot can just... _give _themselves to each other, freely. Meanwhile, we witches and warlocks? All we can do is just lust and passion. True love... well that's the one bit of magic no witch or warlock can ever truly know."

Sabrina's brow furrowed with confusion. "Why is that?" she asked.

Rey gestured with his head to the statue in the center of the room. "The Dark Lord, he is a jealous bugger. He wants us ta love him, an' _only_ him."

He then chuckled derisively. "Now, 'taint that selfish of the horned bastard?"

It never ceased to surprise Sabrina just how casually Rey borderline-blasphemed about the center of the Witch's religion.

Then, the sound of trickling liquid caught their attention, and they looked up.

"Oh, fuck me sideways," Rey said.

At that moment, Sabrina could not fault her friend for cursing.

The forehead and eyes of the statue of the Dark Lord...

_They were bleeding._

* * *

_Greendale Holy Mother Church_

Josephine Anderson furrowed her iron-grey brows at the sight before her.

The statue of the Messiah.

It was weeping blood.

She let loose a resigned breath. "And so it begins..."

* * *

_Later,_

_Greendale Forest,_

_By the hanging tree_

_A minute to midnight_

The idiot boy's kisses were rough and hungry, and his hands like clumsy paws over Lilith's stolen flesh, cloaked in the illusion of a girl his age.

Typical of a mortal, and a man.

Adopting a quiet tone, she pushed him back a bit. "Oh, Stevie. Stevie, lease, slow down."

The little mortal simply chuckled. "Hey you asked me out, remember? Plus, you're the one who suggested the woods."

Lilith rolled her stolen eyes. "That is true."

She then grabbed him by his chin and cheeks. "But still... why must you virgins always be so damnably aggressive?"

That set him back on his proverbial heels. "What? Hey, c'mon, I'm not-"

"Oh please, Mr. Loomis," Lilith interjected, as she let her true voice bleed through the illusion, "I can smell virgins the same way that a rabid dog can smell blood."

Then, she dropped the illusion entirely, and he recoiled in fright. It was delicious.

Before he could react, she smiled and grabbed him by his hair. "But please, do not be embarrassed."

She then yanked him to his knees as she stood. "It just so happens that a virgin's blood suits my needs this night."

With a flick of her free hand, a knife appeared. "I call out to the Greendale Thirteen," she cried, as poor Stevie futilely tried to claw out of her grasp.

"To the witches hunted and killed by mortals! Betrayed by their own kind. Hunted, betrayed, and then hung from this very tree by their necks!"

She looked towards the tree, as her voice gained a timbre of an echo to it. "Arise, sisters! Arise!"

With one swift motion, she cut Sevie's throat, and his virgin blood splashed against the tree. As he gurgled and died, Lilith could feel a change in the air.

In the next moment, thirteen women and young girls in colonial dress surrounded her.

Lilith could not resist the smirk that wormed its way onto her lips. "Welcome back, ladies," she said.

One of the Thirteen stepped forth. "Where are we," the old woman asked, in a hoarse voice.

"You are in the town of Greendale," Lilith replied. "And it just so happens that the witching hour is upon us."

She stood straighter and looked about her at the waiting ghosts. "Tonight and tomorrow, my sisters, for one hour, from midnight to the stroke of one, you may walk the earth again... so that you may claim your deserved revenge."

Lilith gestured with her chin. "So go forth, sisters. Take to the sleeping streets. Reacquaint yourself with this town that you so rightly despise. And then... summon the butcher who will end Greendale, once... and for all."

Silently, the witches began to walk, clearing out of the forest grove, and away from the tree upon which they had died choking.

Lilith reveled in the breeze their unnatural presence generated and lifted her head to the night sky in quiet jubilation.

* * *

_Slowly, they entered into the town that had murdered them. It looked... different. _

_A few of them could not help but marvel at what was about them. _

_How long had they been dead?_

* * *

_Cerberus Books_

The last of the patrons had gone home for the night, and so Hilda and Dr. Cerberus were the only ones left in the store. As such, they went about sweeping and cleaning and washing.

One of the things that Hilda found herself admiring about the bookstore owner was that he was more than willing to do many of these tasks himself, alongside his paltry staff.

As she gathered up napkins, and he swept up the floor, she spoke in a faux-scratchy voice. "Out. Of. My. Way."

He in turn chuckled and gave a sweeping bow. "Madam," he said.

As they shared a giggle, the lights suddenly flickered.

The grin on her face died away almost immediately. He must have noticed, as he put a gentle hand on her upper arm. "Hilda?' he said, his voice full of worry.

"Do... do you feel that," she asked, as fear crawled down her spine.

As the lights flickered back on, she let loose a shaky breath. "It's... it's like a train going past a graveyard."

On instinct, they both looked behind them, and through the window.

Nothing but an empty street.

* * *

_They kept walking._

_Some saw the old courthouse, where they and the coven that had given them up to the wolves would meet in secret._

_They then recoiled briefly._

_Something... some _thing _was inside. It was something they had never felt before. _

* * *

The thing that called itself Blackwood leafed through the pages of the Dark Lord's unholy book. At times, he could not help the smirk that grew upon his face as he read some of the passages as he prepared for the witching hour's sermon.

Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.

He then looked up, as he felt an odd and _dead _presence outside the unholy chapel.

He quirked an eyebrow. How odd.

"Who's there?" he called out. "I only ask that you show yourselves to me. I will not harm you if you do."

A moment later, the book in front of him burst into flames.

He quirked his eyebrow again.

Very Interesting.

* * *

_Onwards, they continued._

_Onwards, to where their bodies lay._

* * *

_Putnam residence_

_"Wake up, Susie," _Dorothea said.

With a gasp, Susie shot up in her bed. The only sounds in the house were the snores of her father and uncle.

Almost inexplicably, she felt drawn to look out the window.

When she did, she almost screamed in terror.

Standing out on the mist-shrouded fields was a circle of thirteen women. As one, they all turned to look up at her, and she saw their faces were sunken and skeletal.

"What the hell?" she whispered.

"They've come back," she heard Dorothea say behind her.

Susie swallowed. "Who... who has, Aunt Dorothea?"

"The thirteen women hung to death as witches. Women that I brought to the New World so that they could live freely. The very same women that I buried here on our land."

"On our farm?"

She felt Dorothea nod. "Yes. No one else would cut them down. They were just left to dangle from the tree, like slabs of unwanted meat. They deserved better. They deserved a place where they could rest."

"Then... then why are they back?"

"Because they were hunted, and betrayed. They should have been buried by their own kind. They should have been laid to rest among their own kind. But they were not. So now, full of wrath and fury, they have returned for revenge."

Susie finally turned to look at her ancestor. "Is there any way to stop them?"

She was met with silence, for Dorothea had vanished.

She then looked back out the window and saw that the Thirteen were gone as well.

* * *

_Greendale Forest_

Though it had already been a week since his sentence had been lifted, to Ambrose Spellman, each step he took outside the grounds of the Spellman property felt just as new and unique as the previous.

It was nigh-on intoxicating.

It was especially so with his new paramour by his side; Luke, with his chiseled chest, lantern jaw, blonde hair, and laughing eyes.

Still, he wondered why they were out here. With a resigned sigh, he turned to the afore-mentioned paramour. "You know, we don't have to tramp out into the woods after midnight just to get kinky."

In reply, Luke shushed him. "Sh! That's not what this is. I just wanted to show you my favorite spot."

"Oh please. I already know your favorite spot, and it is right between your-"

"I meant my favorite spot for moon-gazing, you silly ass."

Suddenly, Ambrose came to a halt, and he perked his ears. Luke noticed his cessation of movement and looked towards him with an inquiring face. "Ambrose? What is it? What's going on?"

This time, it was Ambrose's turn to shush him. "Quiet. Can't you hear that?"

In the distance, Ambrose heard the soft echo of voices. The look on Luke's face revealed that he could hear it too. "What is that?" he asked.

Ambrose's senses narrowed into the area of origin. "Over there," he said with a pointing finger. "Look."

Suddenly, they saw before them a burning bonfire. Surrounding it were thirteen women, with raised arms, and chanting emanating from their lips.

"A circle of witches," Luke noted.

"Are they from our coven?" Ambrose asked. "Besides, what are they gathered here for?"

Luke shrugged his wide shoulders. "I don't know. It sounds... sounds like a summoning spell."

Though Ambrose chuckled at that, Luke's face grew pensive and worried. "No, no. They're calling forth something, Ambrose. We really should go."

"Why," Ambrose retorted. "If these are witches, they're our people. They're probably just out here having themselves a good time."

"And what if they're not," Luke in turn retorted.

That... that was a good point.

Then, as the circle's voices raised to a towering crescendo, the fire went out.

The witches then vanished.

Curious, Ambrose and Luke dashed towards they the fire had been lit. Save for the now-extinguished pit, there was no sign that the women had even been there. Not even footprints.

Ambrose then knelt to examine the fire-pit and reached forward his hand. Though the still-hot coals bit at his hand a bit, he was not deterred. It looked like there was something...

What was that?

He came away holding a strange wooden figurine, like the sort of item that little children played with before television and movies and video games.

He then examined it. It was that of a white horse, and upon it sat a...

A figure in red.

Oh shit.

Ambrose and Luke locked eyes, both knowing what the totem represented, and they started to run with all speed out of the little clearing.

Ambrose had not gon two steps when he felt his momentum suddenly arrested by the feeling of a bony claw around his throat. Behind him, Luke was arrested and choking by an invisible force.

The one choking Ambrose was a woman, dressed in the manner of the colonial era. Her skin was scarred and raw, and her eyes were two pits of solid black. "Warlock," she said in a hoarse voice, over Ambrose's own choking. "I bid you take this warning to your masters at the Church of Night. Now listen well."

* * *

_The Cabin in the Mountains_

As Harvey completed another drawing of his brother, he heard a wind ripple through the area around the cabin.

He looked up for a bit and then shrugged.

Weird.

* * *

_The Next Day_

_December 2nd,_

_Wednesday_

An emergency message was sent to all the witches in the area, courtesy of Father Blackwood.

Come to the Unholy chapel.

Now.

Many were surprised that it was during the day, but the urgency of the message made it clear that the time of day was not important at the moment.

* * *

As Sabrina (who had gotten pulled out of school early) and her Aunt made their way into the crowded chapel, Sabrina noted Father Blackwood, looming over his pulpit like a vulture.

After a moment, he raised his hands for silence. "Brothers and Sisters," he began. "Last night, I bore witness to a most dreadful omen. An omen that, I am sure, many of here also bore witness to. It was a horrifying sign that can portend to only one thing: It seems that the Fires of the Abyss are being made ready. The Pit has begun to yawn its great maw beneath us. The Dark Lord, he has seen our _contemptible _weakness. He has seen our blatant disregard for witch law and doctrine. As such, our Lord Satan, the vengeful god that he is, plans to punish us!"

Before he could continue, the doors of the chapel burst open, and in rushed Ambrose and his new boyfriend. Both bore small scrapes and smudges of dirt on their persons. "Father Blackwood!" Sabrina's cousin called out.

As he stiffly strode towards the High Priest, with something clenched in his left hand, he continued to speak. "It is not the Dark Lord's Wrath that has come for us, it is... it is the Greendale Thirteen!"

"We... we stumbled upon them in the woods last night," huffed out Ambrose's boyfriend. "They-they were performing some kind of ritual. It was a summoning spell."

"They bore into our minds," Ambrose continued, in between gasps of air. "They bewitched us. We... the only reason we are alive is that they charged us with delivering a message."

"What message?" asked Father Blackwood. "Spit it out, boy."

"They... They have returned to visit Death upon the town of Greendale. Last night... they rose to call forth their Crimson Avenger. He answered that call, and tonight, on the witching hour, he will ride!"

"Who rides," asked Aunt Zelda. "What in Hells' name are you talking about?"

In lieu of a verbal response, Ambrose simply held up the horseman figure clutched in his hand. "The Red Angel of Death, Auntie."

As murmurs began to sweep through the chapel, ambrose continued. "The Thirteen will knock down all the doors in town for him, and in his wake, all the firstborn of Greendale, mortal and witch alike, will perish!"

The crowd continued to murmur, and Sabrina felt Aunt Zelda wrap her arms around her in a protective embrace. A few pregnant women in the audience hugged their precious cargo snuggly.

Father Blackwood raised up his hands. "Silence. Silence!"

As the murmurings died down, Father Blackwood looked upon Ambrose. "You have done well to bring this news to us, Brother Ambrose. However, if it is the wrath of the Thirteen and their messenger of Crimson Death we face, then fear not. I, your high priest, will protect you!"

Aunt Hilda then cleared her throat. "Um, with all due respect, Your Excellency, and acknowledging that I'm excommunicated... protect us how?"

Father Blackwood took a deep breath. "The coven will gather within the walls of the Academy. It shall be fortified, bound by our combined impenetrable magicks. There, we will stand together until the blood-red horseman has passed through Greendale!"

At that, the chapel burst out in applause, save from Aunt Zelda and Sabrina.

Then Sabrina, her mind full of worries for her friends, stood up. "But what about the mortals?"

The applause stopped, and all turned to look at her. Undeterred, she continued. "What about the people of Greendale?"

Father Blackwood gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Let them run crying to their false God and gnash their teeth and wail, or whatever it is that they do."

He then promptly ignored her. "Brethren, be inside the academy by midnight... else you will face the Thirteen... and their avenging angel alone."

* * *

_Spellman Residence_

As they had traversed back to the house, Sabrina suddenly thought of a question.

"I don't understand," she began, once they were in the kitchen. "What possible reason would the Greendale Thirteen have to be mad at us?" she asked, while Salem scampered up to his perch on her shoulder.

Aunt Zelda took a long pull from her cigar. "It was a bloody, rotten mess, what happened to the Greendale Thirteen. It is rightly considered the most ignoble chapter of the Church of Night's History, but it is our history, nonetheless. To deny it is the act of an ignorant fool."

She took another pull and then sighed out smoke. "After the witch trials of Salem, all the witches in this part of the country were nothing short of terrified."

"Trouble was brewing in Greendale," Aunt Hilda continued. "People... mortals were identifying and arresting witches, among which were the original Thirteen. So, while those poor souls sat in their cells, waiting to be interrogated and tortured, the other witches met and decided-"

"It was decided that the Thirteen would be sacrificed," Aunt Zelda concluded. "So as to appease the mortal's bloodlust. So, while those thirteen women were tortured and hung, the rest of the witches... burned their poppets and buried their cauldrons."

"All they were," Ambrose interjected, "were scapegoats to quell the rising witch hysteria."

Aunt Zelda took yet another pull. "Of course, the coven could have banded together to save the Thirteen, but they..."

She then turned to Sabrina. "We, our ancestors... decided that it was not worth the risk."

Sabrina felt horror rise in her veins at what she had just heard. "So, we're all descendants of the witches who turned their backs on the Thirteen and left them to die? Wow. No wonder they hate us."

"As well as the mortals that did the actual hunting and torturing and hanging, to be fair," Ambrose added.

"Well, you better believe that I am not just abandoning my friends to go hide in some magical doomsday bunker. And before you even try to stop me, Auntie Zee-"

"On the contrary," said her aunt. "I think we should all stay and protect the town."

No one had been expecting something that selfless to emanate from the mouth of Zelda Spellman. "Really?" blurted out Aunt Hilda.

"I was not expecting that," Ambrose said.

_"_Fou_!" _Chirped Salem.

"And whyever not?" Aunt Zelda replied. "The Greendale Thirteen were sacrificed so that the rest of the pack might survive. But that was then, and this is now. We are dutybound not to make the same mistake again. We are Spellmans, for Satan's sake! And that means we stand tall, with dignity, and we do what is right, and the consequences be damned! Just as your father always did, Sabrina."

She turned to the rest of the Spellman household, with even little Salem perched tall on Sabrina's shoulder. "Now, the mortals might be weak, but they are not deserving of this grim fate," Aunt Zelda declared, as she leaned forward upon the kitchen table. "Doom has been ushered forth by witches. Therefore, it is only right that it be averted by witches."

Ambrose threw up his hands. "Alright, but how, exactly? How do we protect them? We can hardly be all places at once! We can't protect this whole town."

"Actually, we can, if we do the same as what Father Blackwood is doing," Aunt Zelda stated. "We gather the mortals together."

Aunt Hilda cleared her throat. "Actually, Zelda, I think I might have the answer for that."

Though Aunt Zelda rolled her eyes, Aunt Hilda continued on. "You see, Dr. Cerberus told me something. He used to be the local weatherman, you know."

"Oh, for Satan's sake," groaned Aunt Zelda, but Aunt Hilda was not deterred. "Right, um... so he told me that, in the event of a tornado or severe weather, that the town's designated shelter was Baxter High. More specifically, the basement."

A hopeful grin spread across Sabrina's face. 'That's a great idea, Aunt Hilda."

She then looked towards Aunt Zelda. "All we need is a tornado."

Ambrose let out a laugh. "That's easy enough to do."

Moments later, he pulled out a map of the town. Over it, Aunt Zelda set a glass bowl, filled to the brim with water. Everyone then picked up an empty jar.

As one they began to chant, as they unscrewed the jar tops.

Zelda went first,

_Boreas, North Wind, I summon you._

Next was Aunt Hilda.

_Euros, East Wind, I summon you._

The third was Ambrose.

_Notos, South Wind, I summon you._

Finally came Sabrina.

_Zephuros, West Wind, I summon you. _

As Sabrina looked about, a breeze swept through the house, and the water in the bowl began to shake. Aside from that, there was nothing else.

"Is it working?" Sabrina asked. "How will we know?"

"Be patient, and give it a moment," Aunt Zelda snapped.

A moment later, the wind outside began to pick up.

Then, it began to howl.

* * *

All through the town, the alarm klaxons rang and blared to life.

Tornado!

A tornado, a freak tornado was coming!

* * *

Aunt Zelda then set down her jar. "Pray to Satan that the mortals heed the warning."

* * *

_December 3rd, _

_Thursday_

_The House of Mary Wardwell_

_Almost Midnight_

"And for the most part, the mortals did," Lilith said. "The Mortals of Greendale gathered to take refuge in the bowls of Baxter high. Just like you."

She then smirked. "All, that is, except for poor Harvey, stuck all alone in the mountains."

* * *

_December 2nd,_

_Wednesday,_

_Baxter High_

_Near Evening_

Lilith watched with disgust as all the mortals of Greendale crowded into the high school like cattle.

Disgusting.

"All right. All right. Easy does it. Nice and slow," came the oily voice of Principal Hawthorne. It was the sort of voice that made Lilith want to strangle someone on principal alone.

"That's it," he continued. "There's plenty of room for all in the storm shelter."

A moment later, she felt his breath at her ear. "Don't you find this just so invigorating, Mrs. Wardwell?" he asked in a breathy voice, that made her stolen flesh crawl. "I've always been fascinated by tornados myself, ever since _The Wizard of Oz."_

If she ripped out his tongue, would anyone really care?

"And now," he said. "Here we are. Our school, the only safe place in Greendale. I am engorged with excitement."

Maybe not his tongue. Maybe his member instead? But, that would mean she would have to touch it, and the wretched, tiny thing was probably diseased.

Instead, she restrained herself and rolled her eyes. "Mr. Hawthrone-"

"Perhaps," he interrupted, "after this is all over, you and I might finally have that drink?"

Slowly, Lilith turned her stolen body to face the disgusting man. Then, she turned back and walked away.

* * *

_Academy of Unseen Arts_

As the witches and warlocks all crowded into the main foyer, the one called Blackwood watched from the balcony as they funneled into the room.

Thye looked like little chickens, from where he was standing.

It was almost amusing. He also found it paradoxical, how a 'hidden' society still felt the need to dress so flamboyantly.

So much black, it was eye-watering.

"Father Blackwood?" came the voice of Luke Chalfant as the boy strode to his side. "All are accounted for."

The one known as Blackwood nodded. "Most splendid. With our collective energies, we should be able to prevent the witches or their Red Angel from crossing over our threshold."

"All save the Spellmans," said Luke. "None of them are here. Not even Ambrose."

Really? Oh well. C'est la vie. "What a pity. And I had such... high hopes for that boy."

Still, no great loss. Besides, if the girl died, then the 'Dark Lord's' plans would be foiled beyond repair.

Oh, by the Most High, how utterly delicious.

* * *

As Sabrina rushed down the stairs with the other students, she came across Mr. Wednesday. Despite all the chaos about, he had a small grin on his face. "Ah, my dear. Well done with the tornado. A bit extreme, but it got all the townsfolk in one place."

Then, his face grew pensive. "All, that is, save for young Harvey, it seems."

Oh god, Harvey!

Before she could cry out, he held up a hand. "Worry not. The wards around my cabin are quite potent. Neither angel nor ghost nor demon nor magically-induced tornado will be able to penetrate it. He will be safe."

Then, Susie ran up to them, and Mr. Wednesday greeted her. "Ah, greetings, little warrior."

Susie nodded at him and then turned to Sabrina. "Sabrina, have you seen Roz?"

Sabrina shook her head. "No, I haven't."

Susie grew more worried. "I saw her dad here, but I don't think she's here, Sabrina!"

"Oh, I would not worry about her, little warrior," Mr. Wednesday said. "Touko is with her. She will be safe."

Susie looked unsure at his promise, and Mr. Wednesday sighed and set a gloved hand on her shoulder. "If it will make you feel any better, then you should probably make haste to her house. Go."

With a nod, Susie dashed off into the crowd. Mr. Wendesday looked about, and his face grew pensive as he turned back to Sabrina. "You are aware, however, that mere walls of brick and such will not be enough to deter the thirteen or the Angel of Death, right?"

Sabrina swallowed. "My Aunts, Ambrose, and I will do our best on that. But, you think you can help?"

He nodded. "There might be a way to stymie the Angel of Death's path... but for that, we need Reverend Anderson."

Sabrina tilted her head in confusion. "Reverend Anderson? Isn't she here?"

He shook his head. "She is at the church. I am about to get and retrieve her. Would you like to help me? Worry not, for I shall have you back here before too long? She trusts you, as you helped restore her faith. She will listen to you."

All Sabrina could do was just nod. "If it will help save everyone, I will."

"Excellent. Now, grab my hand."

She did, and he then promptly traced _Ehwaz_ into the air.

A moment later, the air compressed, and they found themselves in the church.

The Reverend Anderson was at the alter, calmly lighting candles.

A moment later, she turned to face them, a sad smile upon her lips. "Sixty years ago, I foresaw that my death would come at the hands of an angel and that I would be lead to it by a hanged man, and a girl who was more than what she seemed. At the time, I despaired. But now... I feel only peace."

Sabrina's eyes widened at what she said, and she turned to Mr. Wednesday in askance. "Wait, she's going to die!?"

Mr. Wednesday nodded sadly. "There are moments in life that will require a heady price, a steep sacrifice. This is one of those times, I'm afraid."

He then calmly held out a hand to the reverend. "Come, Josephine Alexander. Are you ready?"

The reverend nodded. "I am. Worry not, young Sabrina, for I am at peace."

She took Wednesday's hand, and he then looked to the _ehwaz _rune that still floated in the air before them.

He spoke its name, and they were teleported back to the school.

* * *

_Walker Residence_

When Susie arrived at Roz's house, she quickly discovered why her friend had not left.

Roz let out a sigh. "My Nana Ruth doesn't want to go, and I can't leave her," Roz explained, gesturing to the old woman as she did so.

"But everyone's at school. There's a tornado coming," Susie explained.

Nana Ruth then scoffed as she knit. "Child, please. We're Walker Women. We're cunning women. We know what's coming, and it ain't a tornado."

Roz sighed and turned to Susie. "It's witches, Susie. That and... a mand dressed in red on a white horse," she said, as she turned back to her grandmother.

As the grandmother nodded, Susie could not help the slight groan of exasperation that escaped her lips, as she headed for the door. "All the more reason for you to be at Baxter High with the rest of us."

Before Roz could reply, Nana Rth spoke in a sharp and clear voice. "Now you listen here, young man. I have spent the better part of the last thirty years sitting in this chair. I don't see any reason to leave now."

She then smiled and nodded towards Miss Touko, who was currently sat across from her, smoking a cigarette. "Besides. We're at the side of Lady Blue. Ain't no safer place in the whole world."

Susie could not believe what she was hearing and looked toward her friend. "Roz?"

Roz let loose a sigh. "I'm sorry, Susie."

Susie should have headed back to the school, and take refuge with her uncle and dad and everyone else. That was the smart thing to do.

But it was not the right thing to do.

With another sigh, Susie took her hand off the door handle and stood by Roz. "Then I'm staying too."

This time, it was Roz's turn to groan in exasperation. "Susie-"

"No, I'm staying Roz. It's what Dorothea would do. It's what she would want me to do. I know it."

As Susie then weathered Roz's disapproving look, Miss Touko then let loose a chuckle around her cigarette. "Well then, little guy. Welcome aboard. Hope ya survive the night."

* * *

As Sabrina, Mr. Wednesday, and Reverend Anderson appeared back in the school, footsteps announced the appearance of Sabrina's Aunts.

"Sabrina! Where the hell have you been?" Aunt Zelda demanded. "The mortals are down in the shelter, and it's almost the witching hour."

Mr. Wednesday then answered. "She was with me, good lady. She and I had to pick the good Reverend Anderson here. It was a simple errand, nothing too strenuous, I assure you."

Aunt Zelda looked at him as if she were seeing him for the first time. "And who the hell are you?"

He gave a slight bow. "I am Waver Wednesday, madam. An independent practitioner of magic, and Sabrina's history teacher. But you can call me Mr. Wednesday."

As Aunt Zelda realized what that may or may not have meant, Sabrina held up a hand. "Listen this is not the time to get into it. Mr. Wednesday says that Reverend Anderson can help us keep the Red angel occupied."

"And just how, exactly!? By praying at it?"

"No, Ms. Spellman," Reverend Anderson said. "Through sacrifice."

Before anyone could inquire as to what that meant, the lights in the school began to flicker.

Aunt Hilda's face paled. "Oh bugger."

They were coming.

* * *

_The Witching hour had begun. Some went to where the mortals dwelled and spread out through the town. The rest went to where teh descendants of the traitors hid. _

_It was time. _

_Time for their reckoning._

* * *

As the clock ticked towards twelve, Sabrina, Ambrose, Aunt Zelda, and Aunt Hilda stood in a circle. Despite Aunt Zelda's protestations, Mr. Wednesday joined in the circle as well, with Sabrina retorting that they could use all the help they could get.

Reverend Anderson simply stood to the side, and watched with curious fascination.

The hallway clock kept ticking.

_4_

_3_

_2_

_1_

The clock struck twelve.

Sabrina and the others began to chant.

_Qui Affecto Protego,_

_mixtisque iubas serpentibus_

_et posteris meis stirpiqu._

Outside, the wind grew stronger still, and the doors began to rattle.

* * *

_The Cabin in the mountains_

When the wind began to howl, and the door started to rattle, Harvey had felt pure fear sab him in his spine.

He grabbed an ax that Mr. Wednesday let him sue to chop firewood, and stood ready, as the door continued to rattle, but remained sealed.

He just hoped that Sabrina was okay.

* * *

_Walker Residence_

As Roz held her grandmother's hand, Touko continued to smoke, and Susie simply sat. Outside, the wind howled like a wild beast.

Then, Roz looked through the window and almost gasped in fright.

There was a silhouette of a woman, standing outside!

Then, the door began to rattle, and Susie jumped to her feet.

A moment later, it flew open, and on the other side stood the mist-shrouded figure of a woman in colonial dress.

Roz could barely resist the urge to scream.

Before she could, and before Susie could say anything, Touko then stood up. With a smirk, she idly tossed her cigarette into the fireplace, and it lit up with a flash!

"Don't worry your little heads, kiddies," Touko then said. "I placed a bounded field around the house. She can't get in."

Then, Touko took slow, measured steps towards the open front door, as if she were in no hurry.

As she did so, the ghostly woman raised her head towards Roz's teacher, and her sunken eyes widened in... fear?

Slowly, ever so languidly, Touko walked until she was face to face with the ghostly woman.

Then, Touko leaned forward, and the undead witch actually leaned back.

Touko smirked and said a single word. "Boo."

A moment later, the undead witch actually screamed, and vanished into the wind.

As Touko calmly closed the door and locked it, Roz and Susie stared at her with wide eyes.

Meanwhile, Nana Ruth let out a soft chuckle. "As I said, young man: We're with the Lady Blue. Ain't no safer place to be."

* * *

_Baxter High_

Outside, the undead witches raised their arms, and doors continued to shake harder.

Sabrina looked to Aunt Zelda. "It's working, isn't it? The protection spell, Aunt Zelda?"

Her aunt nodded. "Yes, as long as we five remained focused, we just might."

Then, as if uttering those words had tempted fate, Aunt Zelda vanished in the warping of air.

What the- where had she gone?

Aunt Hilda's face turned pale. "Oh bugger."

Meanwhile, Reverend Anderson sighed. "Then it seems we have little choice left."

"Indeed," Mr. Wednesday said.

* * *

_Academy of Unseen Arts._

The next thing she knew, Zelda was being gripped about the arms by Father Blackwood.

As she gasped for air, she looked angrily at Faustus. "Faustus? You brought me here!?"

He nodded. "I did, Sister Zelda."

"Well, then send me back! My family, they need me!"

"That may be the case, but I am afraid I must insist that your duty is here. It seems that several of our members have gone into labor, late, on-time, and premature! You are the best and only midwife we have, and so I made a choice!"

It was then that Zelda heard the myriad moans of pain, she looked about, and saw that they were in one of the dormitories, and upon mattresses rolled onto the floor were pregnant women, each groaning and/or screaming in pain.

Zelda looked about and then turned to Blackwood. "Damn you, Faustus. Fuck! I'm going to need a literal boat-load of fresh towels, hot water, any free witch you can find, and even those demonic little sisters that you keep on leashes! I'll need all the help I can get."

Faustus nodded and then sped off to find them.

Satan's horns, but this would be a long fucking night.

* * *

_Baxter High_

Outside, the wind roared and howled.

Inside, Ambrose was the first to speak. "What just happened!? Where did Aunt Zelda go!?"

"Can the protection spell hold with just four of us?" Sabrina frantically asked?

Aunt Hilda shakingly shrugged. 'W-well, it's a bit dodgy, but if the three of us pick up the slack and nobody else dissa-"

As if tempting fate, Ambrose suddenly vanished as well.

"Oh bugger," Aunt Hilda cursed.

Outside, the air suddenly began to glow with a baleful, crimson light in the distance.

* * *

_Academy of Unseen Arts_

When he could see again, Ambrose found himself in one of the hallways of the Academy, and with Luke's hands about his shoulders.

When he could speak again, Ambrose wasted no time in utilizing it. "Luke, what in the hell am I doing here?"

"I teleported you here," Luke replied. "And before you try to leave, its no use. I bound you to the academy. You _have_ to stay."

Ambrose shoved Luke's hands away. "What!? Why on earth would you do such a thing!?"

"Because you belong here with us now, with your own kind, safe inside these walls, standing with the coven, with your brothers and sisters! With me, Ambrose!"

Ambrose shook his head. "No, no! You don't understand, I have to-"

No, _you _don't understand!" Luke interjected. "I couldn't leave you to die out there, Ambrose. I couldn't... because I love you.

Ambrose... had not been expecting that.

Not at all.

* * *

_Baxter High_

Sabrina and Aunt Hilda did the best they could to maintain the protection spell, but it was like trying to hold back a deluge.

Through the windows, the Red light was getting brighter.

Mr. Wednesday then spoke. "The witches are getting stronger out there. I can sense it. The Crimson Angel will be here shortly."

"So what do we do?" Aunt Hilda asked.

In lieu of a verbal reply, Mr. Wednesday simply let out a sad sigh.

He then turned to Reverend Anderson. "I am afraid that it is time. Are you ready?"

The Reverend nodded. "I have been ready for the past sixty years, ever since I helped burn Alimango Island to the ground. As I said, I am at peace."

She then turned to Sabrina. "Sabrina. You helped me to reignite my faith, and when I thought it would never return. Would you do me the honor of witnessing my final moments?"

At that moment, all Sabrina could do was nod.

Mr. Wednesday quickly traced the rune into the air, set his gloved hands on each of their shoulders, and then turned to Aunt Hilda. "I will keep her safe."

Before Aunt Hilda could say anything, he spoke the rune's name.

* * *

A moment later, Hilda found herself alone in the school, and now she was the only thing standing between the Thirteen, the Crimson angel, and their intended victims.

Oh, bugger-fuck.

The physical pressure on her form felt beyond immense.

But she would not falter.

* * *

_Greendale_

Sabrina saw that they had arrived at the center of the town. Approaching them, washing everything in its glow, was the red light, and it seemed to ride the storm that Sabrina and her family had conjured. When she looked upon it, that red light, Sabrina felt terrified, almost enough to collapse.

Mr. Wednesday then pulled her away. "Let us get back a bit out of the way, my dear. We are witnesses, but we must be safe."

As they moved back, Reverend Anderson looked at Sabrina. "Live a good life, young Sabrina. Live, be happy in all that you do."

Sabrina watched as Reverend Anderson knelt upon the ground, and rolled up her sleeves, revealing that each arm was liberally sheathed in strange-looking tattoos. Then, almost from nowhere, into her hand flashed a strange looking sword with a small red handle.

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for you are with me; your rod and your staff they comfort me," Sabrina heard the Reverend say, as Mr. Wednesday teleported them to a rooftop, and then rapidly traced several runes through the air.

Sabrina then watched as Reverend Anderson gripped the edge of the strange sword tightly with her bare hand, and slashed the point through her wrist and inner forearm, before doing the same with the other.

The red light drew closer.

As her blood began to drip upon the ground, Reverend Anderson started to chant.

_I call upon thee, oh prince of angels._

_I call upon thee, who stands upon one of the Four Corners._

_I call upon thee, who guards the gates of Tartarus and the Garden and the Sun._

_I call upon thee, who bears the fiery sword._

_I call upon thee, so that all who dwell behind me and beside me may know mercy, and may see the coming of the new day!_

_I call upon thee, and offer up my flesh and blood and soul to thee in tribute and sacrifice!_

_I call upon thee, so that you may bar Death's path this night!_

_I call upon thee, oh Archangel of Flame, Oh Light of God!_

_Come forth,_

_URIEL!_

As her head flung back and her chant ended, a loud and mighty horn sounded and echoed through the air, and then came a great burst of light from the Reverend's flesh.

When the light settled, and Sabrina could see again, she saw that Reverend Anderson was... glowing, as if alit from within by a great fire.

No, it was not Reverend Anderson. Somehow, Sabrina instinctively knew that Reverend Anderson was gone.

The being inhabiting Reverend Anderson's body stood. As it did, brilliant wings of flame sprouted from her back, and the air began to smell of fire. Above her head bloomed a perfect circle, no, a _halo_ of fire.

The crimson light paused as if confused. Then from it emerged a voice, ancient and terrible and uncaring in its tone. Sabrina fought the urge to cover her ears in pain. **Uriel. It has been a long time. **

From Reverend Anderson's lips emerged a voice just as ancient, though not as terrible, perhaps. _You will go no_ _further, Azrael. My summoner, who has sacrificed her flesh and soul to me, has decreed that I shall protect these mortals that stand behind and beside me. _

**And mine summoners have decreed that I reap the firstborn of this town in vengeance. Their power, their binding... it is strong. I cannot disobey. **

_Then we are at an impasse, my sibling. _

As it spoke, the angel of flame held up its vessel's hands, and between their fingers sprung several thin blades of fire!

_So prepare yourself. I will not let you pass me so easily. _

At that, Sabrina watched as the red light began to coalesce into a humanoid figure, and then it gained definition. From the mists and the storm strode a terrifying figure.

It was tall and garbed in black and red armor and frayed robes adorned with spikes and skulls. It was alit with an aurora of ghostly blue fire. Clutched in its clawed hand was a great and long sword, and its edges were dripping with red blood.

Where its head should have been was a skull, and its eye-sockets glowed with the same flames that hovered about it. Sprouting from the skull was a halo of bone and blue fire.

From its back loomed great wings that seemed blacker than night.

This figure pointed with its blade at the angel inhabiting the reverend's body. **The Evening Bell has tolled their names, my Sibling. I will not be denied, and thou cannot stand in my way for long.**

Uriel nodded and then slid into a fighting stance. _Perhaps, but I shall try none-the-less. _

For a long moment, not a single thing moved. Even the storm about them seemed to fall silent as the two ancient entities waited for the other to make the first move.

Then, their wings flexed.

The two seemed to vanish in a burst of fire and shadow, and then there came a great and mighty explosion of air as they collided!

If not for Mr. Wednesday's firm hand keeping her upright, Sabrina felt as if she would have gone flying off the roof from the force of the... it ould only be described as a sonic boom.

The two beings moved more quickly then her eyes could follow, practically teleporting and reappearing about the town, and each collision of their forms and fists and weapons reducing portions of the town to rubble from the fallout.

_Flash_, and Uriel sent a sweeping roundhouse kick to the side of the Angel of Death's head, barely blocked by its armored forearm, and it was still sent flying into the Paramount theater, smashing it to pieces.

_Flash, _and Azrael's sword slammed down upon Uriel's six crossed blades, the blast from the collision set several blocks on fire, and ground them to dust.

_Flash, _and they were both up in the air, their limbs a blur as they punched and slashed, fire burning all around them.

_Flash, _and Uriel was yanked and thrown straight down into the street, creating a great crater.

_Flash, _and Uriel scored a hit upon Azrael's skeletal face and then batted the Angel of death aside with fiery wings, before releasing several rapid punches to the chest and face.

_Flash._

_Flash. _

_Flash_, _flash, flash, flash!_

* * *

_December 3rd, _

_Thursday_

_The House of Mary Wardwell_

_Almost Midnight_

"Now, in the spirit of honesty, I was rather shocked that the priestess of the False God had managed to summon an _archangel_ of all things, especially one as powerful as the bearer of Flames, _Uriel_," Lilith admitted with a slightly sheepish shrug. "But, overall, I was not much concerned. Such summonings do not last too long after all.

"Besides, in the end, there was only one way to accomplish what the Dark Lord wanted. Make it so that poor Sabrina would have no other option. There would only be one way, one path through which she could save the mortals... the Path of Night."

She then smiled. "And so... He spoke to her."

* * *

_December 2nd, _

_Wednesday_

_Greendale_

_eighteen minutes past midnight._

Sabrina could not wrest her gaze from what she was witnessing.

Two angels, battling!

It was glorious and horrifying all at once, mixed in with a host of other things!

It was... beyond indescribable!

And yet... she could not shake the feeling of dread from her mind that it would not work.

**_"This battle will not end in the Flame bearer's favor, foolish child."_**

Sabrina gasped in fear and horror as the voice penetrated her thoughts. She recognized it.

It was the Dark Lord.

**_"Do not speak. Merely listen; Uriel's vessel is weakening. Before the hour is up, she will be nothing but a burnt-out husk, and Uriel's tether will be snapped. The Crimson Angel's tether, however, remains strong, because the Thirteen are limitless in their power. As long as they remain on this plane, this town, and all within it, will die beneath Azrael's blade._**

**_"Unless... you stop them, my child." _**

Sabrina could not reply and simply stayed mute in terror.

**_"It is the only way."_**

She mutely shook her head. No, no. anything but that.

**_"It is the only way to save all those who you love, my child. _**

**_"Look below, for Uriel's vessel is about to be extinguished. Then, Azrael will slaughter all in this town."_**

Sabrina looked below at the battle, and saw a terrible sight; Uriel was barely standing, the brilliant flames of its wings and halo slowly dying to flickering embers. Reverend Anderson's body was missing an arm and bled heavily for a myriad of great and small wounds, including several great rents in her chest.

Though Azrael was no less wounded, including a limp from a shattered leg, the Angel of Death stood firm as it approached. Uriel weakly lifted a single blade of flame, only for it to be almost contemptuously knocked aside, along with the arm that had been holding it. Then, the Angel of Death's blade rested against Uriel's neck.

**You have fought admirably, Uriel. But, alas, the Evening Bell has tolled thy Vessel's name, my sibling. The result of this duel was never in doubt.**

Uriel, through its vessel, took a shaky, rattling breath, as blood and flames continued to leak out. _Perhaps, Azrael, but I still had to try, none the less. Now finish it. _

Azrael nodded. **May we meet again in the Shining City, my sibling. If it helps, know that once I have carried out my summoner's commands, I will be coming for them next.**

The Angel of Death then raised its sword high and spoke a single word, as a blue fire lit about its edge.

**_ZABANIYA_**

The sound of a bell could be heard ringing out as the blade descended.

_Bong._

A moment later, the flames around them gutted out, and Reverend Anderson's body collapsed to the ground with a thud.

Sabrina watched as Azrael looked down at the body for a long, ponderous moment, and then turned, and began to slowly limp towards the school.

Sabrina shook her head in disbelief.

_**"If you truly wish to save all within this town, to save the ones that you love... then you know what you must do, my child. You know what must be done. Do it, and you will the power to save them."**_

Sabrina wanted to refuse. She wanted to do something, anything, anything other then what the Dark Lord was suggesting.

But deep down, she knew.

As she was now, nothing could stop Death.

As she was now, she could not even stop the Thirteen.

A single tear ran down her face.

She then raised her head to see Mr. Wednesday looking down at her, a strange expression in his eyes. He put a hand on her shoulder. "In the end my dear, it is still _your _choice. Remember that, and remember the power of a name."

He then released his hand. "I will stay here, and try to waylay the Angel of Death as best I can. You do what you feel you must. Go!"

He traced Ehwaz, spoke its name, and vanished, reappearing on another roof, before sending down a flurry of runes to create a glowing wall to bar the angel's path.

Sabrina nodded to empty air, and then traced the rune, and pictured in her mind the location she wished for it to take her to. Then, she spoke the name.

_"Ehwaz."_

* * *

Josephine watched as Sabrina Spellman vanished from the rooftop.

She then looked around at the carnage the battle had wrought of the town, and down at her body.

"It was always a longshot, stoping the Angel of Death."

"Yeah, he is a tenacious one, I'll give you that. He really gives me the willies some times, with how serious he gets."

Josephine turned and looked at the young-looking, pale-skinned lady, so pale that her skin was actually white. Her hair was as black as her skimpy clothing and lipstick and eyeliner, and the only color was a golden chain and pendant around her neck. Around one of her eyes was a strange black tattoo, like a macabre teardrop.

In so many words, she looked like a perky goth.

Josephine sighed. "It was a good life, I suppose."

Death nodded. "Longer than many get."

Josephine nodded as well. "I hope that brave girl will not falter. So many dark things, slavering after her."

Death shrugged. "I think she'll be fine. There's spunk in her that's not so easily extinguished, you know. It's admirable and wonderful, and a bit sad, I guess."

"Indeed."

Josephine met Death's timeless, warm, and sad gaze. "So what happens now?"

Death gave a comforting smile. "What happens now... is that you take my hand, Josephine Anderson."

Josephine looked at the outstretched limb for an eternal moment. "Will I see my siblings again?"

Death shrugged, and the movement was graceful. "I think that's something you have to find out for yourself."

Her smile grew warmer. "Don't be afraid."

Josephine then smiled as well. "I am an Anderson. Fear is not in our vocabulary."

As Death laughed at that, Josephine Anderson took her hand.

She heard the sounds of laughing children and the beat of mighty wings...

* * *

A moment later, she found herself in a familiar grove.

She recognized it. It was where she had been born, and it was where she had fled from her baptism.

In the center of it rested an altar, and upon that altar sat a very familiar book.

It was open, and Sabrina knew what page it was opened to.

She didn't want to do this. She wanted to scream in defiance, as she had done almost two months ago. Anything. Anything but this.

But, instinctively?

She knew she had no choice.

Slowly, as if wading through thick mud and water, she walked up to the open book.

**_"Sign it, and you will become greater than you could ever imagine. You _will _save them all_."**

She saw the pen, laying next to an empty line on the page.

"I'll sign," she said.

At the utterance of those words, she felt the wind about her grow still.

Behind her, she felt a... a presence. A presence, and low growling. **_"When you sign, of your own free will, do you know what it means? It means that when I call upon you, girl, you _must _answer," _**the Dark Lord whispered.

Tears began to track down her cheeks, but Sabrina nodded all the same. "I... I do."

Heavy footsteps echoed behind her as the Dark Lord drew closer until she felt his breath by her ear. She felt a clawed hand grasp her left wrist and hold it up. She then felt pain as he slashed a single talon down her palm.

It hurt, but she did not scream or even gasp in pain. All she could do was close her eyes at the sensation.

The Dark Lord then guided her hand to hover above the empty space. He squeezed her wrist, and a single drop fell onto the page, where it remained beaded.

**_"The Ink is prepared. All that is left is for you to sign." _**

As if in a daze, Sabrina slowly lifted her right hand towards the waiting pen. As it did, memories of the past month fled through her mind.

_... Harvey giving her the necklace..._

_... Her laughing with her friends... _

_... __Roz laughed as she threw her arms about Sabrina..._

_... Susie letting loose a giggle..._

_... Her birthday party..._

_... Harvey's lips on hers..._

_... "... Yer bloody mad. Ye know tha', right?"..._

_... "As you wish, Sabrina Spellman. As you wish..."_

She picked up the pen.

..._ "There is no real wrong answer. Just a decision. Remember that, and you will be fine, no matter the outcome, because, as I have just said, it will have been your choice, and no one else's."_

She dipped the pen in the blood and began to write.

_..."My oh my. How utterly sad for you, half-breed. To be so bereft of belief, to not have faith in anything. That must be a terrifying existence..."_

_... "I love you, Sabrina..."_

She wrote in the final letter and set down the pen.

The moment she did so, she felt a strange burst of energy that raced through her whole body, and lightning flashed and thunder boomed!

She felt... different.

Heavier.

Fuller.

_Stronger._

But there was no time to waste. She had to stop the thirteen!

But where should she go? Even with how she was feeling, to face the Angel of Death was pure suicide.

Suddenly, a memory came to her mind. The vision, shown to her by the _mallus mallum_, of the large tree, and the women, who dangled from its branches... that were on fire...

She then knew.

The Hanging Tree.

She then quickly traced the rune of teleportation in the air and shouted out its name. "_Ehwaz!"_

* * *

_Academy of Unseen Arts_

As the groans and screams of women and labor filled the air, Zelda felt herself being run ragged, dashing to and from, checking the dilation of each, and whispering partially empty words of solace to them whenever she could.

She had only found herself more frantic when she found out that all the coming infants were to be _firstborn, _especially those whose labor was premature.

Did the arrival of the Crimson Angel cause this!?

The Weird Sisters, and the other witches they had managed to scrounge up, were being actually helpful, though Zelda considered the fact that the three little creatures were enjoying the pain of the pregnant women.

She then shoved the thoughts from her mind. "Sisters! You are all doing wonderfully! Now I just need you all to push!"

By Satan's horns, these infants and their mothers would not die this night!

Suddenly, all within heard the sound of a bell.

_Bong._

_Bong._

_Bong._

* * *

_Baxter High_

Not since London had Hilda felt so completely terrifying, so helpless.

_The dark laughter sounded in her head, as blood splashed on her face... _No!

Now was not the time!

As the red light grew brighter, she straightened her spine.

"Hilda! There you are!"

She looked to her right, and, to her shock, she saw Dr. Cerberus rushing down the hall towards her. "Dr. Cee?" she asked, dumbfounded. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

He skidded to a stop before her. "What am _I _doing? You should be downstairs. I got worried. What are you doing up here?"

He was worried, about her!?

It took a moment for her to find her tongue. "I-I-I'm saying a little prayer against the tornado."

He did not look at her funny for that. "Do you need me to stay?" he asked.

She wanted most desperately to stay. "Just... just hold my hands. Just for a minute."

He took her hands into his larger, warm ones. It was a nice feeling. "Will that help?" he inquired.

"It can't hurt, can it?"

It was a nice feeling.

Then, Hilda then heard the sound of a bell.

_Bong._

_Bong._

_Bong._

* * *

_Walker residence_

Thankfully, after the ghost woman left, no others showed up.

Roz let loose a shaky breath of relief. "Oh thank God. It's over."

Then, Nana Ruth spoke. "Oh no, child. It's not over yet."

Roz turned to her grandmother. "Not over? What are you talking about?"

She had never seen her grandmother look so frightened. "The Flame-Bearer could not waylay him for long. Now, he comes. The Angel of Death!"

She was actually starting to rise from her chair. "Can't you hear his footsteps? The beating of his wings? Can't you hear the tolling of the bell?"

Then, Roz heard it, and it chilled her to the bottom of her soul.

_Bong._

_Bong._

_Bong._

Touko then summarized everything in a single word; "Fuck."

* * *

_The Cabin in the Mountains_

As the rattling had continued, Harvey kept a death-grip on his ax. He had also resorted to piling any heavy thing he could find in front of the door.

For some reason, a strange scent pervaded the air; heavy, and cloying, and ancient.

Then, he heard it; the bell.

_Bong._

_Bong._

_Bong._

* * *

_The Hanging Tree_

The rune deposited Sabrina in front of the Hanging Tree.

It loomed over her like a hungry beast that had just spied its next meal.

In her vision, it had been burning.

As she pondered, she felt her head fill with knowledge, knowledge gained from signing away her name.

The power that she now felt dwelling within her... it required passion.

It required desire.

It required rage.

It required a will that could move the very foundations of the earth itself.

She closed her eyes, reached deep inside of herself, and drew forth from this new wellspring of power.

She raised up her hands and then spoke. _"_I command the Greendale Thirteen to Stop!" she cried out.

The power pulsed through the air. "Go in peace, or face my wrath!"

The wind howled, thunder crashed, and before her... materialized the Thirteen.

* * *

_Baxter High_

All of a sudden, the doors stopped rattling, and the wind died down.

Hilda, and Dr. Cerberus looked about "Is that it?" Dr. Cerberus asked. "Is the storm over?"

Hilda then heard ponderous footsteps on the front steps of the door, and a great shape loomed behind the door.

Hilda felt all the blood drain from her face, as the sound of the bell grew louder. "No," she said. "It seems the true storm has just gotten here."

Hilda then turned back to her boss and friend. "Tell me. Are you perchance the firstborn?"

He looked at her with confusion in his eyes. "The oldest of three boys. Why?"

They then heard a brief cutting sound, and then, before their eyes, the metal began to rust and rot and collapse before their eyes.

Quickly, Hilda cupped Dr. Cerberus' face in her hands and chanted a quick spell.

_Hear me, heed me._

_Run away._

_Live to see another day._

As the spell's compulsion took hold of him, and he began to dash off, Hilda called out after him. "Run! Go! We will be right behind you!"

As he ran and turned down the hall, Hilda raised her hands and began to chant.

_Qui Affecto Protego,_

_mixtisque iubas serpentibus_

_et posteris meis stirpiqu._

_Qui Affecto Protego,_

_mixtisque iubas serpentibus_

_et posteris meis stirpiqu._

_Qui Affecto Protego,_

_mixtisque iubas serpentibus_

_et posteris meis stirpi-_

The degraded remnants of the door collapsed into ash.

_Bong!_

_Bong!_

_BONG!_

The angel of Death then strode in, and Hilda lost all courage to even speak.

Every step that the strange, skull-faced, armored being took seemed to destroy... no, _kill_ the very ground beneath it.

It loomed over her, its cold shadow all but enveloping her.

It looked upon her with empty eye sockets that _burned_ with cold fire.

Then, it spoke, as it raised its blade, and its voice made blood leak from Hilda's ears.

**Dost thou hear the tolling of the bell?**

* * *

_The Hanging Tree._

The Thirteen all looked at Sabrina.

"Who are you to order us?" one of them asked. "We have felt the wrath of Greendale once, child. We will not be hung again."

Sabrina clenched her fists at her side. "No, not hung. You will be burned."

The ghost scoffed. "You claim that you can burn us, _half-witch_? We are not of this earth. No earthly fire can even warm us, let alone burn us."

"No, not earthly fire," replied Sabrina. "Hellfire!"

This time, the ghost actually laughed and smiled with black teeth. "Preposterous. None but the most powerful can summon the fires of hell: Devils. And in all the history of witches, only three-"

"Well, it's about to be four!" Sabrina shouted, as her circuits began to glow. "I, Sabrina Spellman, daughter of Edward Spellman, Child of Night, do call forth Fire from the Pit!"

Her circuits shifted hue from turquoise... to a deep and burning blue.

As the glow filled area, the laughing witch watched in horror as her hand began to burn, and Sabrina started to chant.

_Ater Ignus, fusce fume._

_Te evoco ut potentium tuam monstres. _

The fire spread among the other witches, and leaped to the tree, filling the air with ozone and the scent of charcoal. They started to scream.

Sabrina continued to chant.

_Cupidibus flammis hic veni._

_Caelo sub isto,_

_harc arborem concumo._

_Lucem tenebrasque tuas monstra._

_Impetuum tuum evoco ad devorandum._

_Hanc arborem ac omnes hospitas devora!_

As the spirits continued to burn and scream, Sabrina could not help but... a smile.

It felt wrong... and it felt good.

* * *

On the branch of a tree nearby, Stolas watched...

* * *

_December 3rd, _

_Thursday_

_The House of Mary Wardwell_

_Almost Midnight_

"And so it went up, in hell flame," Lilith recounted. "A most glorious, gorgeous, searing inferno consumed their souls," she said as if she were savoring the memory like a fine wine. "Releasing their anger... until their charred bodies fell from the sky... like ash.

* * *

_And once the witches who summoned the Red Death were gone, and the wrath that fueled him dissipated, the Angel too simply vanished, as if he were never there._

* * *

_Baxter High_

If Hilda was going to die, she would meet it with eyes open.

She watched as the blade rose, and as it began to descend like a guillotine rapidly-

Then it stopped. Half a centimeter from her neck.

The Angel of Death Looked over its shoulder, and then back at her.

**The Bell has been silenced. The contract has been severed, burnt clean. **

It pulled back its blade and planted it point first into the ground, the angel's clawed gauntlets resting upon its pommel. It then looked straight down at Hilda.

**Count thy blessings, for thine life, and the lives of the others, have been spared. **

Its black wings spread out, almost filling the entirety of the length of the hallway.

Then, it vanished.

A gentle breeze blew through the empty doorframe.

A moment later, Hilda's eyes rolled up into the back of her head, and she fainted.

* * *

_And just like that, the witching hour was over and done. _

* * *

_December 3rd, _

_Thursday_

_The House of Mary Wardwell_

_Almost Midnight_

"And, of course, most everyone had survived the storm," Lilith said, almost as an afterthought. "They would never know just how close they'd came to utter annihilation."

* * *

_The Cabin in the Mountains_

The door suddenly stopped rattling. After a long moment, and still keeping a death grip on the ax, Harvey moved aside the furniture blocking the door, and slowly crept outside.

When he saw that it was abandoned, he let loose the breath that he did not know he had been holding.

* * *

_Walker Residence_

With eyes unclouded for the first time in a long time, Ruth Walker watched as her grandaughter kissed her head, and as Lady Blue somberly set her red funeral shroud over her face.

Ruth felt a bit guilty at the look upon her granddaughter's tear-stained face. Even Lady Blue looked somber.

A warm hand was set upon Ruth's shoulder. "Your granddaughter will weather this. She's strong, like you."

Ruth looked over her shoulder, and at Death's kindly, ageless face, and her warm eyes. "Of course she is, dear," Ruth replied. "She's a Walker woman, after all, and we are a strong and hardy breed, cunning or no."

Death smiled at that. "I could not agree more."

Ruth looked back down at her body and watched as Lady Blue kissed her cheek, and then she and Rosalind left the room. "It was a good life that I've led, even if I could not actually see most of it. I loved, and I lived."

"That you did, Ruth."

A frown then graced her face again. "I just wish I could have prepared my little granddaughter more for what's coming next. She's too kindly for War."

Death patted her shoulder. "Whatever happens, I think that your granddaughter will be fine, Ruth. No matter what comes her way. She's like you, after all."

Ruth nodded. "Perhaps you're right."

She then looked into Death's warm eyes. "I am ready. So what now?"

Death gave a warm and sad smile. "Take my hand."

Ruth did, and she heard the sound of mighty wings...

* * *

_Spellman Residence_

After helping her back to her feet, Dr. Cerberus had offered to walk Hilda home.

He was such a gentleman, it was beyond flattering.

"I don't know what you said in that prayer tonight, but it certainly worked," he said with a warm smile, as they walked up to the front steps.

He looked up. "All the clouds have cleared."

He then turned to face her. "It's going to be a beautiful day, Hilda Spellman."

Before she knew what she was doing, she leaned forward and kissed him.

He reciprocated, fully.

A moment later, they parted, shared a grin. "Good night," he said, and Hilda watched him go.

When she went inside to the kitchen, she was met with the sight of a frazzled-looking Zelda. There were bags under her eyes, and her ashtray was already filled to the brim with spent cigars, while a fresh one dangled, unlit from her fingers.

"Sister?" she said.

Zelda looked up at her with blood-shot eyes. "Hilda... I was called away for a birthing emergency. Several of our sisters in the coven went into labor. While the babes are all healthy... only less than half the mothers survived."

She then lit her cigar. "There was so much blood... I couldn't stop the bleeding."

Oh, oh, dear.

Well, this would be awkward. "I'm moving out," Hilda blurted.

Zelda's tired face twisted into a rictus of confusion. "Excuse me?" she said, smoke trailing from her mouth.

Right, too late to back away now, so Hilda went full throttle. "I'm moving out... of our bedroom. I think that it's high time I had a room of my own."

She then turned on her heel and walked away.

* * *

_The Cabin in the Mountains._

To calm his nerves, Harvey started to draw, while he cooked a pot of baked beans on the stove.

A gust of wind inside the cabin made him look up from his task. Standing before him was Sabrina.

Almost on instinct, he leaped to his feet and swept her up into a hug. "'Brina!" he exclaimed. "A lot of strange stuff happened. Are you alright?"

He felt her return his hug, tightly. "Yeah... I'm okay. How are you?"

He shrugged, not letting her go. "A little shaken, but nothing a good night's sleep can't fix, I guess."

Her tone then registered in his mind, and he pulled back. There was a tired look in her eyes, tired and sorrowful. "Are you sure? You seem... sad."

She sighed and pulled away from him. "Tonight... I did something. Something that I never thought I would have to do but ended up needing to do."

Harvey felt confused. "What? What did you do?"

She sat down on the cabin's bed, and he sat down next to him. "There was an attack, on the town tonight, Harvey. These undead witches... they summoned the Angel of Death. I stopped them... but to do so, I had to sign my name in the Book of the Beast."

As she said that, memories of what he and Mr. Wednesday had witnessed at her baptism flashed through his mind, and he swallowed. "Do you... do you feel any different?"

She shrugged. "At the moment... I don't really know. I don't feel great, but that's just because it's been a long night."

"Okay... then do you regret it?"

"Right now, no. I saved you, Roz, Susie, and everyone else. But later... I'm not so sure."

She then turned to him. "I've chosen the path of night, Harvey. You've seen what that entails. IF you want to back away, then I won't-"

Before she could say anything else, he kissed her.

For a long time, their lips were joined. As he pulled away, he set his forehead against hers. "Like I said when you told me about this, that day in the woods, and like I've said before: I'll always be here for you, 'Brina. Always."

He felt a tear run down her face. "No matter what?"

He smiled and hugged her, and she hugged him back. "No matter what. We'll get through this, together."

He then looked down at her. "So, while you're here... want some beans?"

Despite the tears running down her face, Sabrina laughed, and it was the best sound Harvey had ever heard.

* * *

Outside, a wolf howled, and two ravens watched over the cabin as the boy and the girl shared a tin of beans...

* * *

_December 3rd, _

_Thursday_

_The House of Mary Wardwell_

_Almost Midnight_

Lilith reclined in her chair "And that, as they say, all things according to her plan," she said to her guest.

She then shrugged. "Though, I never really get the credit I deserve."

The mother of Demons then stood up and took two steps towards her guest. "Still, the best and worst things... happen in the shadows."

She chuckled. "Well, this is all a very long-winded way of my telling you that... I am an amazing teacher, Principal Hawthorne."

The mortal principle, stripped naked and trussed up like a pig for slaughter, looked up at her with terror in his beady eyes. "No one but me could have gotten Sabrina so far along the path of the night, and all without having to reveal myself, or even pretend to just be another, ordinary witch, sympathetic to her... situation."

With a quick motion, she undid his gag, letting it fall loosely to his neck. Once he could talk, he gasped. "Who the hell are you, lady?"

She answered with a smile. "Who am I, you ask?"

She smirked. "Well, I'm certainly not Mary Wardwell... though I do enjoy her body."

She began to loom over him. "I... am the Mother of Demons, the Dawn of Doom, Satan's concubine. My name, my true name... is Lilith, dear boy. The first wife to Adam, the first to be expelled from the Garden, and the first to be saved from my despair by the grace of a fallen angel. I call myself Madam Satan, in his honor."

Hawthorne began to shake in fear, even wetting himself. The sight made her smile as she stalked towards him. "But soon," she continued, "very soon... I will have a new title."

She leaned over him, even as he tried to vainly shrink back into the chair he was tied to. "You see... once I have finished grooming little Sabrina to take my place as Satan's foot soldier, I will earn a crown and a throne by his side."

She leaned in even closer. "Who am I?"

She then reached up and peeled back the flesh of Mary Wardwell's face... to reveal her true visage, in all its glory.

**_"I am the Future Queen of_ Hell."**

As he screamed, she opened her jaw wide...

* * *

_Ten minutes later._

Lilith picked her teeth.

A good meal, but more than a bit greasy.

Stolas then cawed.

She rolled her stolen eyes. He was such a child, sometimes. "I did so leave you leftovers," she retorted.

He cawed again, and she groaned in exasperation. "Oh please. Stop squawking and just say it already."

Her loyal familiar then cleared her throat. "Forgive me, madam," he said, "but does it not seem to you that Satan is grooming _Sabrina_ to reign at his side, and not you?"

Lilith narrowed her stolen eyes at him. "Don't be foolish, Stolas. The Dark Lord would not betray my years of service like that, my dear familiar, and..."

She leaned over where he perched and began to stroke his feathered neck. "Even if he did, there would be a very simple way to deal with little Sabrina."

_Crack._

Bonelessly, Stolas' body dropped to the floor.

* * *

Outside the cottage of Mary Wardwell, the black raven with white eyes watched...

* * *

_The Nameless Inn_

Mr. Wednesday poured a glass of mead and handed it to Touko before he poured a glass of his own preferred beverage

She took her drink with a smirk. "So, what are we toasting?"

He returned her smirk with one of his own and a raised glass. "To this little game moving ever closer to checkmate, my dear. To checkmate... and revenge."

Their glasses clinked, and they drank their drinks with relish.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for how long this took to write. I hope you all find it satisfactory. I will be resuming this story as best I can.**

**Lots of stuff happened here. **

**Read, review, and enjoy!**


	18. Chapter 18

Fate Ragnarök Chapter 18: Happy Yuletide to all and to all a good night!

_Somewhere in America_

_Cairo, Illinois_

The bespectacled man flipped open the book to a fresh page and dipped his falcon's feather quill into the inkpot.

_The Winter months settled their frost fingers upon the land, as the country readied itself for its most beloved holiday, just as it had before, and just as it always will. It is a holiday that has existed in many forms over the millennia, and over the entire breadth of the globe. _

_It is a time of warm food, strong and hot drinks, gifts, carousing, solemn remembrance, joys, and sorrows. It is a time for friendship, love, birth, and death, as the world settles in for its wintery slumber. _

_It is a holiday celebrated with as many traditions as there are stars in the night sky, and has gone by many names; Yuletide, Solstice, and many others. In the olden days, and in the vast wilds of the Old Countries, it was a time to contemplate and celebrate the death and renewal of the world. In more recent millennia, it became time in which the birth of a simple carpenter is celebrated and remembered. _

_In any event, no matter what name it goes by, this holiday is, at its core, a time of life... and a time of death. _

_In the little town of Greendale, in the closing days of the year of 2018, this became especially apparent..._

* * *

_Greendale_

_Saturday, December 19th, 2018,_

_Two days before the Solstice, and One week before Christmas_

If there was one holiday that Greendale loved just as much as Halloween, it was Christmas. What was not to love, after all, when the snow-covered the land in a white blanket when the smell of gingerbread floated out of chimneys and danced on the wind, and when the town itself was suffused in an abundance of good cheer.

Sabrina and her family enjoyed the winter holiday, though, within the path of night, it was known by a much different name; Yuletide.

Of course, were one to take a peek inside their house, you would not be able to tell that they celebrated _Yuletide_, and not Christmas.

The door bore a vibrant wreath, and the interior was decorated with trimmings and decorations of red and green.

It was a happy time, and Sabrina needed to feel happy, after everything that had happened over the past few months, what with Harvey now being a wanted fugitive having to hide in the mountains, and her signing the Book of the Beast.

So yes, she wanted to feel happy.

She would also visit Harvey later.

She placed the photo of her and Susie sitting on Santa's lap on the mantle and smiled as she turned to her left, looking past Salem's customary perch on her left shoulder. "Aunt Hilda, Ambrose, the Christmas Tree looks great, you guys," she said.

From her chair, with Vinegar Tom resting on her lap, and a lit cigar filling the room with tobacco-scent, Aunt Zelda scoffed. "Oh Sabrina, I wish you wouldn't call it that. You know perfectly well that its a Yule Tree."

Aunt Hilda chuckled. "Oh, Christmas isn't so bad, Zelds. Plus, also, for someone who doesn't believe in it, you have quite a few presents there for yourself," she said, gesturing with her elbow to the base of the tree.

"On the contrary, sister, they are not for me."

Zelda then turned to the bascinet at her side, and at its occupant, and smiled. "They are for baby Laeticia, and the other little ones."

During the Red Angel crisis, Father Blackwood had summoned.

A day or so after getting herself together, Aunt Zelda had then gone out and done something that, in her words, was 'rather impulsive.'

She had adopted one of the orphan newborns, a little girl whom she then named Laeticia. In addition, she had taken it upon her self to see to it that the rest of the orphans were well taken care of as well.

Sabrina, at times, still found a hard time believing that Aunt Zelda, infamous for her brusque manner, sharp tongue, and chain-smoking, had such fierce maternal instincts, even though she been raised by her and Aunt Hilda all her life.

Aunt Zelda reached over and stroked the infant's head, filling the air with coos, and infant gurgles. Vinegar Tom, meanwhile, let loose a low whine of displeasure at having his head-scratches taken away. "Oh, imagine," Aunt Zelda said. "A baby in the house, just in time for the winter holidays. I don't think it could be more perfect."

Ambrose chuckled. "Never did take you for such a maternal figure, Auntie Zee."

She arched an eyebrow. "I'll have you know that I am the very model of responsible maternity, Ambrose, so bite your tongue."

Little Laeticia, in the meantime, was currently engrossed in the rather serious task of trying to fit her tiny hand into her mouth.

"Indeed," Ambrose said, as he plopped himself down on a chair. "You are truly the picture of parental responsibility, with your lit cigar filling the air with thick tobacco, near her little lungs."

Aunt Zelda looked at her lit cigar. "I'll have you know that I am limiting myself to four boxes now."

"Is that per hour?"

She gave him a stern look. "Please desist with your insolence, Ambrose. Besides, I smoked plenty while we were raising Sabrina, and her lungs are none the worse for it, isn't that right, my dear?"

Sabrina felt a mischievous grin on her face as she idly stroked Salem's head. "Oh, yeah - _cough. _Perfectly - _cough, cough - _healthy, Aunt Zelda."

Everyone else laughed as Aunt Zelda fixed them all with a withering gaze.

Sabrina's laugh then faded along with her smile as she picked one a specific decoration to give to Aunt Hilda. Aunt Hilda followed her gaze. "Oh, I remember when that was taken."

The ornament held a picture of Sabrina's parents, both of whom were smiling at the camera, and an infant Sabrina tucked in her mother's arms.

Sensing her melancholy, Salem nuzzled against Sabrina's face and neck. Aunt Hilda then stroked Sabrina's arm. "Oh, it's so difficult, isn't it? This time of year? When we miss family most."

As she said that, Sabrina detected an odd note entering Aunt Hilda's voice.

Sabrina sighed, letting the thought drift away. "I just wish I could have had one Solstice with them, Auntie."

Aunt Hilda nodded. "Yeah. But, you know what might cheer you up? Well, we are gonna roast some chestnuts, and we're gonna... Oh! We'll brew some delicious apple cider, with cinnamon. We'll hunker down and watch your favorite Christmas movies. All the greats: _It's A Wonderful Life, Miracle on 34th Street. _Now, I know you love that one."

As her aunt continued to rattle on, Sabrina smiled and gave her a hug. Even Salem got in on the action. "Yeah, I do," Sabrina replied. "That sounds great."

"Fou!" _As long as there is candy!_

Ambrose chimed in, while Sabrina hung the ornament on the tree. "And I'll regale you all with a reading of _A Christmas Carol_. Even Auntie Zee can appreciate _that _story."

"Indeed," Aunt Zelda said, as she dislodged Vinegar Tom, rose from her seat and switched off a lamp. "I rather like the ghosts in it."

Ambrose nodded at that. "Well, Christmas time is the best tie of the year for ghost stories."

Aunt Zelda strode over to the fireplace, a box of long matches in hand, and her cigar now smoldering on the ashtray. "And speaking of Ghost stories, it's time for us to light the Yule Log."

Aunt Hilda removed the fireplace guard, and Aunt Zelda knelt to light the log. "Now remember, everyone; the Yule log is not a decoration, it is a protection."

With a crack and a flash, she lit the match and alit the newspaper kindling underneath the log. "It must burn continuously from now, through the shortest day, through the longest night, and all the way until dawn. Otherwise, Satan knows what malevolent forces might come crawling down our chimney. It could be creatures with perhaps deadly intentions"

As they watched it burn, Aunt Zelda looked at each and everyone else with a firm and deadpan stare, even Salem. "So, let's do our very best to keep this log lit, shall we?"

They then stood up and locked hands in a circle of four. "And now, for the Solstice blessing," Aunt Zelda said.

They started to recite the blessing.

_May the Log burn,_

_may the wheel turn,_

_may the evil spurn,_

_may the sun return. _

After that, Sabrina retreated with Salem to her room. A moment later, Ambrose followed her, as she sat on the bed, and began to absently run her fingers through Salem's downy fur.

Ambrose sat down beside her and seemed to study her face. "Alright cous," he then said. "YOu haven't said two words this past week. What's happened? Did the Grinch get to you? Or the Dark Lord, perhaps?"

She narrowed her eyes at him for that. "It's just that... things are different this year, Ambrose. I signed my name in his _Book of the Beast. _Also, for pete's sake, I watched the archangel of fire duke it out with the freaking angel of Death in the middle of town!"

He shrugged at that. "Yeah, I will admit, I do wish I could have seen that. But, as for the book thing... yeah you signed it, just like that rest of us have done. And then... life goes on."

He leaned in. "Besides, your friends, on top of your handsome little boyfriend, accept that you're a witch. You told me so, yourself."

This time, she shrugged. "Eh... more or less. I've been kind of keeping my distance from Roz and Susie. Giving them some time to get used to the idea. Meanwhile, my 'handsome little boyfriend,' has to stay holed up in the mountains because he's currently a wanted fugitive."

Ambrose reached over and scratched under Salem's chin. "Well then, here's a crazy thought... Maybe you should be doing the exact opposite? Reassuring them that all is good, and just business as usual?"

Sabrina sighed and shrugged. "Maybe. I just don't know, Ambrose. Honestly... At times like these, I wish I could ask my mom for advice. For instance, I could ask her exactly how my dad told her he was a warlock. And, of course, how she reacted. I mean, how long did it take for her to get used to the idea?"

Ambrose nodded in understanding at that.

Sabrina then felt a bit somber. "Like... did she ever think about breaking up with my dad about it?"

Ambrose sighed and rested his hand on her shoulder. "Oh, cous... every girl wants to talk to their mum about these sorts of things. But, I don't think there really is a way for you to do that. I really wish there was though, truly. But, how would you even go about doing that?"

Sabrina nodded at that and then, an idea popped into her head. "Well... we could have a séance."

He started to laugh at that, but Sabrina persisted. "C'mon Ambrose, I'm serious. Besides, you said it yourself, Christmas is the perfect time for ghosts."

"In fiction," he said.

"But seriously. Solstice is the time of year when the veil between the living and the dead is at its thinnest."

"Yeah, and that is precisely the reason as to why we burn the Yule log so that we keep the bad things out."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "My mother is not a 'bad thing,' Ambrose."

He seemed to lose his tongue at that for a moment. He even looked at Salem for support, but Sabrina's familiar simply turned up his cute nose at him.

With the score in her favor, Sabrina shrugged. "Anyway. It was just an idea."

* * *

Backstage

_As Sabrina cast gandr several times as a facsimile of a target, an idea popped into her head. _"Mr. Wednesday?"

_He looked up from his pipe, as he sat on a flat boulder. _ "Yes, my dear?"

"How exactly would one go about talking to the dead, out of curiosity?"

_He arched an eyebrow at that. _"And dare I ask who you would be wanting to talk to with such a feat, 'out of curiosity?'"

"My mother."

_He nodded at that. _"I see. Of that, I too can relate. The void a parent's death creates in us is truly a large gap."

"It's just that... I never got the chance to actually know her, to hear her voice... or even just say goodbye. I just want the chance to do that, y'know? Do you know of any way to do that? Maybe via a _Book of the Dead_?"

_Mr. Wendesday looked at her for a long moment, smoke floating from his pipe, despite the smoke not technically being real. Then, he shrugged. _"Of course, my dear. Far be it from me to sperate a parent and their child, even across the divide of life and death."

_His grin then grew gently mocking. _"Besides, knowing you, you would probably try something anyway without my help, correct?"

_Sabrina chuckled at that, and then she felt somber. _"Hey, Mr. Wednesday..."

"Yes?"

"...Did I make the right decision, signing my name?"

_Mr. Wednesday di not answer her for a long moment, and then... he just shrugged. _"Choices by themselves are not inherently right or wrong, my dear. In the end, it is what we make of them, and their results that could be considered 'good,' or 'evil.' You made a decision. Do _you _feel as if it were the wrong one?"

_Sabrina shrugged_. "I... I really don't know. I mean, I saved the town, but... now, I'm _owned _by the Dark One. If he tells me to do something, I have to obey."

_All Mr. Wendesday did was shrug. _"In all honesty... I find that these things come down to a matter of belief, my dear. In the end, even as you are now; nothing and nobody can take that away from you."

_As Sabrina pondered over that answer, Mr. Wednesday then stood up. _"So, come by the Nameless Inn tomorrow, and I shall give to you a copy of the _Book of the Dead. _Just make sure that you have some other participants at the ready. Attempting a séance by one's lonesome is... not advisable. However, do heed this warning; cross the boundary between the living and the dead can attract the attention of beings... best left alone on that side of the divide. So, when you do this, make sure that nothing untoward breaks through alongside your mother. Understand?"

_Sabrina bobbed her head up and down in agreement. _

"Wonderful. Then, until tomorrow. Also, do keep up with your magecraft, as you are getting much better. Ta-ta."

Sabrina then woke up.

* * *

_Sunday, December 20th, 2018,_

_One Day Before the Solstice_

After waking up, Sabrina had called Susie and Roz to meet her at Dr. Cerberus' to chat. It had been one of the few places in town not affected by the 'tornado' (aka, two angels having an all-out slugfest).

Still, despite the damage, Greendale was swiftly getting back on its feet and seemed chock full of the holiday spirit. Every inch seemed bedecked in green, red, ornaments, candy canes, and other such fun Christmas things. Best of all was Mr. Hinzelmann's decorations, which seemed to grow more vibrant and intricate every year.

She went inside and saw Susie and Roz sitting at a booth. Roz was the first to spot her, and Sabrina awkwardly waved. "Hey guys," she said, as she sat down across from them.

"Hey."

"Hi."

For a long bit of time, thye all just sat there, so Sabrina decided to bite the proverbial bullet. "Look, I know it's been a bit since we talked, but I was wondering if..."

She explained to them what she was hoping to do.

"You want us to be part of your séance?" Roz asked with an arched eyebrow.

Sabrina nodded. "Yeah. So that I can contact my mom."

Neither Susie nor Roz said anything for a long moment and simply stared at her. Sabrina chuckled awkwardly. "I mean, of course, not pressure, of course, but... I thought that I'd at least ask."

Susie was the first to reply. "Erm..."

Sabrina felt her face fall. "Oh, is it... too soon? And too weird? Or... both?"

"Too soon," said Susie.

"Too weird," replied Roz.

Oh...

No doubt seeing the look on Sabrina's face, Roz then quickly continued. "Plus, you know, my cousins are staying with us for Christmas, so..."

"Yeah, and I'm pretty much working full time until Christmas Eve," said Susie.

Sabrina nodded, with what she hoped was an understanding nod, and an awkward silence fell between them.

Then, Roz turned to Susie. "Oh, Susie! Uh, tell Sabrina what you're doing."

That put a grin on Susie's face, and she leaned towards Sabrina conspiratorially. "I'm playing Jingles the elf at Santa's Play Land."

Sabrina smiled at that. "Oh my gosh! Susie, really? You've wanted to do that for years!"

"I know!" Susie replied excitingly. "I talked with Mr. Hinzelmann about it, and he said that it was about time I played the role. He'll be Santa, like always! It'll be fun. You guys should really come by Knight's of St. Bernard Hall and see it."

"Definitely," said Roz.

"Yeah," agreed Sabrina. "Count me in!"

Susie's face then dropped a bit. "Wish Harvey could be here to see it, though. Then the gang could all be together for the holidays."

Sabrina nodded at that and then dropped her voice down to a whisper. "Yeah, but, the police are still looking for him, so he can't exactly come into town."

"Well, can we at least see him, sometime?" Roz asked as she applied some sanitizer to her hands.

Sabrina thought about it for a moment. "Not right now. Maybe later... when things are a bit quieter."

As they chatted, the wind picked up for a brief moment...

* * *

_Cottage of Mary Wardwell_

Sitting in Mary Wardwell's chair, Lilith clasped her hands and bowed her head in prayer. "Oh Dark Lord, as the longest night approaches, I humbly beg that you answer me. I have done all that you asked. Sabrina has signed her name into your _Book of the Beast_."

She clasped her hands tighter. "Why then, have you forsaken me?" she continued. "Why have you not yet called me home to the Pit? Have I displeased you in some way? Has my mission been changed?"

She bowed her head lower, and closed and clasped her stolen hands and eyes even tighter. "Just say the word. Give my life meaning, just as you did so very long ago. Send to me a sign."

There then came whispering in her ear.

Since Stolas'... untimely departure, Lilith had decided to branch out in regards to a new familiar and had gained the services of a malevolent sylph she had named Sirrocco.

She listened to her familiar's findings. "A séance? For her mother?"

Lilith stroked her chin. "Hmmm... Oh, Sirrocco. It seems that a demoness's work is never done."

She then turned to Mary's mantle. "Isn't that right, Stolas?"

She had picked up a bit of a talent for taxidermy over the millennia. Plus, he really tied the room together.

Lilith then sighed and began to drum her fingers on the arm of the chair. "If Sabrina were to contact her mortal mother, then who knows what disturbing things mommy dearest might say to her daughter fair? And after we just got her to sign on the dotted line, no less."

She slammed her hand on the armrest. "No. It would be much better to disrupt the proceedings, I think..."

Sirrocco then whispered again. "Oh, they know where the Kinkle boy is?"

She would file that away for later if it became needed.

* * *

_Academy of Unseen Arts_

For a school that taught the dark arts, the academy with fairly bustling with holiday cheer. Many students greeted each other happily, though mostly with lust or snark in their eyes.

As she walked about, Sabrina heard three sets of footsteps in unison. "Bright solstice, half-breed."

Steeling herself, Sabrina turned to face them. "Bright solstice, ladies. Can I help you with something?"

In lieu of a verbal response, Prudence stepped forward, studied her for a minute, and then... rubbed a hand across her face. Sabrina recoiled on instinct at that. "What are you doing?"

Instead of replying, Prudence studied her hand sniffed it, and then... licked her palm.

Sabrina felt very sickened and confused. "What the hell are you doing?"

Prudence smiled a mocking grin. "I'm just checking to see if you're now more witch than mortal since you signed your name in our Lord's book. As far as I can tell... it seems like you are. Welcome to the fold, _Sabrina_. Bright Solstice."

With a set of three mocking waves and grins, the Weird Sisters turned on their heels and strode off.

"Tha' cunts getting ye down again, girlie?"

Sabrina felt herself perk up a bit at the familiar voice. "Hey, Rey. I was actually looking for you."

He raised a red eyebrow. "Ay? Wha' fer?"

"Well first, what are you doing tonight?"

He shrugged. "Nothin' much. Why?"

Sabrina looked about and then leaned in a bit. "I'm having a séance on the down-low, and I was hoping that you could maybe help me out?"

Interest flashed on his face. "Really? Who are ya tryin' to contact?"

"My mortal mother. But, it's a secret. I really don't want my aunts to find out. Think you might want to help?"

He rubbed his chin in consideration. "Don' see why no'. Not much o' a hand at spiritualism ore such, but I lyke ta lend a hand. So sure, girlie! Count me in!"

Sabrina grinned and gave him a quick hug. "Awesome! I'll leave a window open. We'll convene in my bedroom near the witching hour. I have a few things to do before that."

"Grand. But, we're gonna need more than two ta do this thing, girlie. Anyone else in mind ta help ya?"

Sabrina tapped her chin. "I might."

She then stood up. "See you tonight."

* * *

Harvey looked up from his wood chopping, and a wide smile adorned his bearded face at their approach. "Sabrina!"

He rushed towards her, and Sabrina.

After a month of wood chopping, and living in the mountains, Harvey seemed to have gained about a foot in height, and, Sabrina noted appreciatively, a good deal more muscle.

He still gave good hugs.

"What brings you by," he asked, as he set her down.

She looked about. "Something I wanted to ask you."

"Um, okay. Do you want to come in? Got a pot of coffee brewing. You want some?"

Sabrina chuckled. "Man, you have really adopted the rugged, outdoorsman lifestyle, huh? Oh, and yes, I would love some coffee. Got a long night planned."

He chuckled in reply. "Good to know."

He led her inside, and she saw stacks upon stacks of pictures and drawings.

He pulled out two slightly-dented tin cups from a cupboard, poured the hot coffee, and they sat at the carved wooden table.

She took a sip. It was very strong, but it was good none-the-less. Harvey set his cup down and looked at her. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

* * *

_Knight's of St. Bernard Hall_

As it was during the winter season, St. Bernard's Hall was filled to the brim with eager children and their parents, waiting to get a picture on Santa's knee. Not only was it a tradition, but it was also practically an institution in the town.

Roz waited patiently in line, though it was not to sit on Santa'ss knee, as she was much too old for that.

No, she was just here to see Susie, and have some normal, happy fun. After the past few weeks with Touko, the storm, magic, _witches_, and such, Roz felt she needed a little normal.

She then saw Susie and gasped aloud in delight. She looked so adorable! "Susie!" she said.

She saw Susie, with her red coat, lime tights and hat, and wide black belt.

They both laughed as they shared a hug. Roz then pulled back to get a second look at her friend. "Man oh man. The Elf on the Shelf can eat his stuffed heart out because you. Look. Amazing!"

Susie looked a little bashful at the compliments. "Thanks, Roz. I've always wanted to be Jingles, and this is probably the last year I'll be short enough to do it."

"Hey, Jingles," came a weathered and kindly voice.

Roz and Susie turned to see Mr. Hinzelmann, his worn and cheery face enveloped and hidden by his Santa's beard and red hat. With a kindly twinkle in his blue eyes, the man made a show of tapping his watch. "We're back on the clock, and lost of little wishes to record before Christmas, so let's get cracking!"

Susie nodded. "You got it, _Santa._"

She then turned back to Roz with a light shrug. "So... do you need a ride home?" Raz asked. "Cause, honestly, I don't mind hanging out for a bit."

Susie waved her hand. "No, I'm okay. After the hall closes, Mr. Hinzelmann and I have to get everything ready for the big final push."

Mr. Hinzelmann then let loose a suspisciuosly loud belt of _'ho-ho-ho!'_

Susie then let loose a small groan. "He's nice and all, but these next two days are going to kill me."

Oh, um, okay. "Okay, uh, well. I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"For sure."

"Cool, cool."

As Roz turned and walked away, she heard Susie corralling the kids in the line, and Mr. Hinzelmann letting loose another belting _"ho-ho-ho-ho-ho! Merry Christmas!"_

At the flash of the camera, the back of Roz's eyes started to itch, and a strange feeling seemed to creep up and down Roz's spinal column.

For a brief moment, the sound of water swishing about filled her ears.

She turned back to look at Susie and Mr. Hinzelmann, and then the feelings dissipated.

Huh. Weird.

* * *

_Later, Santa's Playland. _

The sun started to set down in the winter sky, and the crowds filtered out for the night, leaving the hall empty save for Susie, Mr. Hinzelmann, and Hinzelmann's Christmas decorations.

As she polished one of Mr. Hinzelmann's carvings of a reindeer, Mr. Hinzelmann paused in his sweeping behind her. "You know, I really appreciate your staying late, Susie," he said.

"It's my pleasure, Mr. Hinzelmann," she replied.

"I mean it," he continued. "You're a good kid. Knew I liked you for a reason."

They both chuckled at that, and he continued to sweep. Then, he spoke some more. "So, you got any big plans for the holidays? A big family gathering, perhaps?"

Susie shook her head. "Nope, just me, my dad, and my uncle."

"Oh, is he doing any better?"

"Yeah, he is. Still walking with a cane though."

He nodded at that, and then he paused and looked about, leaning on his broom. "You know, I just love this time of year. It's a time when life is at its fullest, even as the forests and the air itself begins to grow cold. Families huddle around their fires and fill their bellies with good and warm food from their pantries. You could call it a time of renewal."

...Okay. Weird bit of conversation. "Uh, yeah, I guess."

She looked up from her polishing to see Mr. Hinzelmann looking at her, with a strange wistfulness in his aged eyes. "Still, like all things, that renewal... it's not for free, and it doesn't come cheap. To get something, you have to give something up. The earth, she gives up the weakest of her flock, so that the winter may pass, and the spring can bring fresh life. It's her... sacrifice if you would. Through that sacrifice, she brings life... and power."

He took a step forward. "And every year, like my kinsfolk back in the old country... I have to do the same."

Okay, this was starting to get a bit... creepy. "Uh, Mr. Hinzelmann..."

He whispered something under his breath, and Susie felt all go black...

* * *

_Cottage of Mary Wardwell_

Over the millennia, Lilith had developed and honed a wide plethora of skills. Some were necessary things that an immortal demon should develop, such as fighting, lock-picking, taxidermy, assassination, knowing what direction north was, and how to hide a body, just to name a few.

Others were more hobbies, such as taxidermy, assassination, baking, sewing, how to hide a body, building, and even the odd occasion that called for impromptu singing.

Right now, she found baking and building and sewing to be most useful, as she put the finishing touches on the to-model scale of the Spellman's house. Of course, it was much smaller and crafted entirely from gingerbread and vanilla frosting. In front of the house, she placed four little leather simulacra, one for each of the Spellmans.

Not bad, if she did say so herself.

She then took a measuring cup full of water and raised it up to the chimney, and began to chant as she tipped the cup over, letting the water run down the chimney.

_Warden of the longest night,_

_fey things fear the Yule fire's light. _

_But Yule flame dead_

_then portals laid bare..._

_now darkness comes to trick..._

_and tear. _

* * *

_Spellman House_

_Night_

Unbeknownst to anyone with two legs and two arms in the house, a steady stream of water doused the burning yule log...

* * *

_Sabrina's room_

Sabrina finished lighting the last candle and then looked at the book in her hands that she had gotten from Mr. Wednesday. "Right, now, I have my mom's dress as a beacon for her spirit."

She then walked to the table that she and Harvey and Rey were sitting around, and laid the dress down on the table.

From the bed, Salem watched.

"Okay," she said. "Now, we have to place our hands down on the table, pinkies touching."

"Kinky," Rey sniped.

Sabrina ignored him, while Harvey looked a bit uncertain, but did as he was asked. Sabrina then continued. "Now, we have to focus our energies, and send them into the table," she said.

"Question," Harvey said. "What happens when your mom's spirit shows up?"

Sabrina shrugged, as the book was a little bit vague on what would happen when her mother's spirit appeared. "Well, she may either speak by herself, or through one of us," Sabrina replied.

Havery processed that for a moment. "Groovey."

The clock struck twelve, and it was time to begin.

Sabrina and the others closed their eyes, and then she began the incantation.

_Spirits below and above,_

_spirits in between,_

_caught in the fabric betwixt worlds,_

_we ask that the veil be lifted and that you send forth the spirit of Diana Regina Sawyer-Spellman._

_Diana, Mother, you are welcome to this house, to this circle._

_If you are here, we ask that you make your presence known. _

The wind then picked up.

All around them, whispering voices could be heard.

Then... Sabrina and the others heard a voice, in their heads. _"I am here." _

"I... I think we've made contact, guys," Harvey said quietly.

Sabrina wanted to believe it, that it was her, but she had to be sure. Mr. Wednesdya had recommended that she asked the spirit a question. "Spirit, if you are my mother... then how did you die?"

They then heard the answer. _"Two, three, three, one."_

"Well, tha's bloody cryptic," Rey said.

Sabrina shook her head. "My parents, they died in a plane crash. Their flight number, it was... 2331."

It was her. Sabrina knew it. "So, it is you... mom," she said.

_"Yes, it is."_

"I... I have so many questions for you. But first, I... I just wish I could see you again."

There was only silence, and then came a quiet _"I'll try." _

Suddenly, there came a strong feeling in the air, like static electricity building up. It started to grow, and the room felt as if it were starting to shake.

"Guys..." Harvey began.

"Don't bloody break yer focus, girlie," Rey said. "I can feel 'er. She's comin' through."

Then, a powerful feeling overcame Sabrina, and she opened her eyes, and slowly looked up.

Standing on the table in front of her, wearing the white dress... was her mother.

Sabrina felt a tear run down her cheek as she stood up. "Mom?" she asked. "Mom. You... you're beautiful."

Her mother's spirit gave her a warm smile _"Thank you." _

Then, Sabrina tried to decide what she wanted to ask. "So, uh... what's it like, in heaven?"

At that, her mother's warm smile dropped, and she 'spoke' once again. _"Not... safe. Not heaven. Purgatory." _

Not safe? "What do you mean?" Sabrina asked. "I'm not safe, or you're not safe? And, what do you mean, 'purgatory?'"

Before any answer could be given, Rey let out a low "oh shit."

"What is it?"

"Some kind o' bloody interference."

"What do you mean?"

"Other spirits."

Other spirits? "What does he mean, 'other spirits?' Mom? is there someone with you? Are you in trouble?"

On the bed, Salem's head shot up, while all through the house... there could be heard the ghostly echoes of children's laughter.

A moment later, there came a loud crash, as the Yule tree fell.

* * *

Hilda bustled inside and felt shocked at the sight of the overturned tree. "No!" she gasped.

Zelda hurried behind as Hilda turned to her. "What-what happened here!?" Hilda demanded.

Zelda's eyes darted about before they settled on the fireplace. She gasped. "Hilda. The Yule log!"

Hilda saw it too. Oh, bugger.

A moment later, Zelda snapped into action. "Relight the damned thing. I'll go warn Sabrina and Ambrose."

* * *

In Sabrina's room, the lights continued to flicker about. "Uh, guys?" Harvey said. "What's going on?"

Sabrina could not wrest her eyes from her mother's form. "Mom! Please, don't go! Stay with me!"

Then came Aunt Zelda's voice. "Sabrina! The Yule Log's gone out!"

The moment she burst into the room, Aunt Zelda's eyes locked with that of her mother's, and Aunt Zelda stopped in shock. "Diana?" she gasped out.

Then, her mother's form began to grow indistinct. "Mom, please, no!" Sabrina called out.

A moment later, the empty dress dropped back down to the table, along with a tear than ran down Sabrina's face.

She slowly turned to look at Aunt Zelda... and the disapproving look on her face. It was a face that she had been seeing often, as of late. "Sabrina," she said.

Sabrina swallowed. "Aunt Zelda, I can explain everything."

Her aunt's face was stony. "I'd think you better."

Her gaze then set on Harvey and Rey. "As for you,' she said to Rey, "haven't you got to get back to the academy for some sort of bed check?"

Rey practically shot up and went out the window with nary a sound.

Aunt Zelda's gaze then rested on Harvey. "And you. Last I checked, we don't have wanted fugitives in this house without at least the courtesy of an invitation. Sabrina, please escort your... _friend_ out now."

Sabrina rapidly nodded. "Okay."

She then walked over to Harvey and helped him up. "I'll see you later," she whispered to him.

All he could do was nod, while she traced the _ehwaz_ rune in the air, and sent him back to the cabin, before she returned back to the house, and quietly went down the stairs to the family room.

* * *

_Later_

"I swear, Aunt Zelda, I didn't put out the log," Sabrina stated.

Aunt Zelda scoffed from her seat, a fresh scar held in her fingers. "Oh, I see, so it is nothing more than a mere coincidence that the Yule log, lit to keep away from this house all unearthly things, _including spirits_... was unlit at the exact time that you decided to convene with your mother's ghost?"

Through it all, Sabrina was surprised that Aunt Zelda had not snapped her cigar in half.

Sabrina swallowed, her throat feeling rather dry and cold, despite Salem being all but draped across her shoulder. "Uh, look... I know how this looks-"

"And tell me," Aunt Zelda continued, "why did you choose tonight? Tonight, of all nights, on the eve of the Solstice? Why did you choose _tonight_ to indulge this sudden need to contact your mother?"

Sabrina just threw up her hands, stress bubbling up. "I don't know? Because it's been a long and crazy few months? Because I saw two fucking angels duke it out in the middle of town; or because my boyfriend has to possibly live up in the mountains for who knows how long due to being a fugitive; or because Roz and Susie don't seem to know how to approach me; or because I had to sign my name in _The Book of The Beast _to save you all, and I have no idea what's going to happen now? Is it so fucking illogical that I wanted some shred of motherly advice on how to deal with even a tenth of all of this bullshit!?"

She took a long, shaky breath, noting how everyone in the room was just staring at her and continued. "Besides... my mom... I think she's stuck in limbo.

"First off; if all of this was bothering you, then why didn't you come to us? And second; are you absolutely certain?" Aunt Zelda said. "We are here for you. We are family, lest you forget. And, if your suspicions are true... then we will do all we can to help Diana."

Sabrina felt... dumbfounded at that last bit. "You... you would really do that?"

Aunt Zelda looked at her as if she were insane. "Sabrina... Diana was my brother's wife. Honestly, sometimes, I question if you really understand the meaning of family at all?"

Footsteps proceeded Ambrose's entrance into the room, and he was holding a bowl of water and a pendulum. Aunt Hilda turned to him. "Ah, Ambrose love... did you, er, find anything?"

"Well," he said, "if some malevolence had gotten in while the Yule Log lay unlit... It would seem that they left once you relit it, Aunt Hilda."

"Or they are simply just very adept at hiding," Aunt Zelda rebutted. "Either way, so much for the hope of a _peaceful _solstice."

She then stood up. "Right, so I am going to bed. For the sake of restful minds, I suggest that everyone sleep with an open eye, a lit warding candle, and a prayer to Satan on your lips that he keeps us safe tonight."

As she turned on her heel, Aunt Hilda then cleared her throat. "Er, Zelda?"

"Yes, what is it, Hilda?"

Aunt Hilda's face looked a bit... sheepish. "Um, should I perhaps sleep in my old room again?"

Aunt Zelda shrugged. "I think you should."

She then held the lit end of her cigar un Aunt Hilda's nose. "But no snoring. Little Laetica is a rather light sleeper."

"Well, I thought it would help if I would sleep with you," Aunt Hilda explained.

Soon, the only ones left in the room were Ambrose, Sabrina, and Salem.

With a tired sigh, Ambrose sat himself down in front of Sabrina. "So... I'd say it's been a long night."

Sabrina nodded. "That's a word for it, Ambrose," she said as she idly stroked Salem.

"So," he then said. "Any idea what might be keeping your mother in limbo?"

Sabrina shrugged. "I... I don't know. I don't know, and I didn't get the chance to ask."

She leaned back. "It's weird, Ambrose, but, I feel... tired. I feel tired and worn down. And yet, also... not unhappy?"

He quirked an eyebrow at that. "And why?"

"Because... if she has unfinished business, then I have the chance to help her, to talk to her." As she spoke, Sabrina felt something slide down her cheek. It was wet.

Oh, it seemed that she was crying. "I mean... isn't that just great? I can try again. I can try again, after Solstice, and I can talk to her and I can fix this, I can fix this..."

As her cheeks grew wetter, Ambrose just silently hugged her, and she wept into his shoulder.

Salem let loose a low 'foouuu.'

* * *

_The morning of Monday, December 21st_

_Solstice_

_The shortest day of the year_

Slowly, slowly, like a Kraken from the depths, Aunt Zelda rose up, and raised her hands like the talons of a great dragon and then said... "peekaboo. I see you!"

Laeticia cooed adorably.

It brought a smile to Zelda's face. "Peekaboo," she said again.

As she played this timeless game with the newest addition of the Spellman family, filling the kitchen with an infant's laughter, Sabrina entered. "Good morning, aunties," she said.

"Oh, blessed morning, sweetheart," Aunt Hilda replied, as she looked up from her cooking.

Aunt Zelda then ceased her game of peekaboo and straightened up. "It is indeed a blessed morning, considering that not a single one of us had our throats slit by any malevolent beings last night."

Sabrina held up her hands in a conciliatory manner. "Aunt Zelda... I'm sorry that I didn't tell you what I was planning. I just... I just didn't think that you would even entertain the idea of helping me. I wasn't trying to hurt you. In fact... I like to think that it was the exact opposite."

Aunt Zelda rolled her eyes. "Oh, as King Lear so famously said, "How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have an ungrateful child."

"Excuse me?" Sabrina spat. "So, it's fine to eat children, but I'm not allowed to contact my own mother?"

"First off, only mortal children. And second, of course, you can, but not when it puts everyone in this house at risk."

Oh, for crying out loud! "For the last time, I did not put out the-"

"Oh fine, Sabrina," Aunt Zelda said, in a soft tone. "I believe you."

Her face then softened. "And, for what it's worth, I'm sorry that you didn't get what you wanted from Diana. Perhpas once the new year comes, we can all try contacting her again."

She then lifted Laeticia from her cradle. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to give little Laeticia her Solstice bath."

After she left the room, cooing to the baby as she did so, Sabrina sighed and turned to Aunt Hilda. "What did I do wrong, Aunt Hilda?"

Her aunt looked up. "Hm?"

Then, she chuckled. "Oh, don't worry. It's not you, love. It's Zelds."

She leaned in conspiratorially. "Now, you may not have noticed this, but she's a hard woman, your Aunt Zelda. She was just... very cold with your mum. Just never let her into her heart, you know?"

Sabrina had a good idea where this was going."

"And then..."

"And then..." Aunt Hilda echoed.

"Thye died," Sabrina completed.

Aunt Hilda nodded sadly. "Yeah. Zelda always regretted the bad blood between them. I mean... she never really _said _it, but... I think that's why she's so heaven-bent on protecting you nowadays. You know, like she's got something to prove."

Sabrina chuckled. "I do keep making messes, don't I?"

Aunt Hilda chuckled and nodded her head.

As Sabrina walked to get some food for Salem, Aunt Hilda then spoke again. "Well, this one is not yours. Plus, you do your fair share of cleaning and clearing them up. This too shall pass, like most other things."

Sabrina certainly hoped so.

* * *

_Putnam Residence_

Jesse slowly made his way up the stairs and knocked on Susie's door. "Hey, Squirt? Breakfast time. Rise and shine, lazy-pants."

He received no answer, even after he knocked again. "Susie?"

Her bed had not even been slept in.

* * *

_Putnam Residence_

The phone rang three times before Roz could answer it, as she had been busy pouring over some manuals that Ms. Touko had provided her.

She picked up the phone. It was Susie's dad. "Hello? oh, Mr. Putnam. Merry-"

He interrupted her, a frantic worry tinging his voice. "What? uh, no... Susie's not here."

His voice grew even more frantic. "Woah, Woah. Wait. She didn't come home last night?"

What?

* * *

The sound was the first thing to come back, followed by a heavy feeling in her mouth, and then, ever so slowly... she opened her eyes.

She raised her right hand to cradle her head and found her left hand following it. Her hands were encased in solid steel manacles, and attached to the hard wall behind her by a ring and chain.

Groaning, she sat up and craned her neck to look around. She was in a strange-looking room with a single-window, which revealed nothing but forest. At the other end of the large room was a set of stairs that led to a solid door.

A moment later, the door opened, the room flooded with light, and down the stairs walked Mr. Hinzelmann. "I am glad to see you are awake. That's good."

As he approached her, Susie backed up. He then simply set a plate of food down before her, and it was laden with sausage, bread, fruit, and cabbage. "Here. you should eat."

She looked down at it with suspicion, remembering the needle that he had jabbed into her neck.

He noted her look and shook his head. "There's no poison in it. I'm not that kind of person. Here, look..."

He took a pice of bread and ate it, chewing slowly, and then swallowed.

She watched as he did this, and her stomach rumbled. Slowly, with a rattle of chains, she took up the plate and the wooden fork he gave her, and she began to devour the food. She was feeling pretty hungry, after all.

He watched as she ate. "You have a mighty appetite. That's good."

Soon, she was finished and tossed the empty plate by his feet, and he picked it up, though he made no move to leave as of yet.

She looked up at him. "Why am I here? Why did you kidnap me?"

Mr. Hinzelmann let loose a heavy sigh. "I want you to know that I gain no pleasure from any of this, little Susie. But needs must, I'm afraid."

"What are you talking about? Can't you just let me go?"

He shook his head. "It's too late for that. You have already been chosen. Remember what I told you earlier, about sacrifice? Well, I am afraid that for the earth, for this town, to live another year... that sacrifice must be you."

As what he had just told her registered in her brain, Susie's eyes flew open wide, and she made a dash towards him, only for her to be arrested by the chains around her wrists.

He did not even blink, and merely watched her.

"Let me go! Just Let me go!" she screamed, and she continued to pull.

In her ears... she heard the sound of thunder.

Then, behind her, the stone... it started to crack.

That _crack_ resounded through the room. Susie ceased in her struggles and looked behind her.

The wall to which the chain was attached was now spiderwebbed from floor to ceiling.

What the-?

Then, she started to feel... dizzy.

Mr. Hinzelmann sighed again. "Perhaps there is more to you then what meets the naked eye. Still, it's too late to turn back now. At least the sleeping draft I put in your food will help you rest until tonight."

As he said that, Susie took a single, unsteady step towards him... and then collapsed, the floor all but swallowing her up...

* * *

_Spellman Residence_

Outside, the snow continued to fall, and the wind crooned and blew about.

Inside, Ambrose poured over a pile of old manuscripts and books with a magnifying glass.

It was so _very _riveting.

With a yawn and a sigh, he looked up from the current book he was peering about, and he looked at the little mouse that was perched on the desk, looking up at him with large, mournful eyes.

He stroked its tiny head with a finger. "Ah, Leviathan. Look's like it's just you, me, and a corpse to embalm."

Behind him, the aforementioned corpse, an elderly lady in a thick nightgown (died in her sleep) lay composed and waiting upon the embalming table.

He turned back to his books. "That, and some backward-written spells I've been tasked with deciphering by the good Father Blackwood. Just another lonely Solstice for us, eh old friend?"

Leviathan let loose an agreeing _squeak._

He angled the magnifying glass up and... standing in the reflection was the dead woman.

With a start, he jumped to his feet, turned, and saw... that the corpse still lay upon the table.

Huh.

Maybe he had been doing this for too long.

He rubbed at his eyes and gave his cheek a few hearty slaps. "Your over-active imagination is running away with you again, Spellman," he self-chided.

Leviathan _squeaked _again.

He angled the glass again... and saw dead bare feet, leading up to standing corpse.

He looked over his shoulder again and... nope, still lying there.

What the hell?

He took a shaky breath and slowly turned back to his work. Okay, maybe he should just take a break in a few moments. But still, just one more page.

Then, he heard footsteps.

He whirled around and saw the corpse standing there, a knife in her hand, and edging towards him.

Quickly, he threw up his hands and chanted as rapidly as he could.

_Carnis et ossa excede!_

Like a marionette with cut strings, the corpse collapsed the ground with a thud.

A moment later, the sound of children's laughter echoed through the mortuary.

Setting little Leviathan upon his shoulder, Ambrose slowly rose from his chair, and hesitantly entered into the mortuary.

"Who's there?" Ambrose called out in what he hoped sounded like a firm voice.

Leviathan backed him up with a brave _squeak._

More of the strange laughter echoed about, as Ambrose carefully stepped around the collapsed corpse.

He then heard the rattle of a hinge behind him and turned to see one of the corpse doors hanging open.

As he approached it, it slammed shut, and then the rest began to rapidly open and shut without end, and the ghostly laughter continued.

Right, time to leave-

He turned behind him, and the standing corpse snapped her fingers.

* * *

Hilda slammed the large mound of dough down upon the flowered marble board and patted it flat with her hand.

She then ambled over to her knives and withdrew the one she needed.

She walked back to the dough, cut it in two, and started to batter down one of the halves with her rolling pin.

She then coved it with a handful of more flour. She then reached for the rolling-

Her right hand touched empty space.

Well... that was odd. She could have sworn she had put it right there.

She looked about and... huh, there it was... on her left side.

She chuckled derisively as she started to roll out the dough. "Honestly, I'd misplace my own head if the bloody thing weren't attached to my shoulders," she murmured, with a shake of the afore-mentioned attached head.

She then set the rolling pin down, _on her left side_, and reached with her right hand for more flour, which she then sprinkled on the dough.

She reached with her left hand and...

Nothing.

What?

She looked to the right. It was not there either.

She looked up and about and turned and...

It was there.

The rolling pin, which she had _definitivly_ set down on her left side, it was now on the counter next to the fridge, _about five feet behind her_.

A little whimper escaped her throat.

What the bloody hell was happening?

As she walked over to retrieve it, the flour bag suddenly fell to the ground.

As she spun around at its landing, the air was suddenly filled with children's laughter.

What the bloody hell?

She looked about, clutching the rolling pin like a war club.

The laughter continued.

Hilda struggled to find her voice through a storm of stammers. "All right," she finally managed, "whoever or whatever you are... I dare say that's quite enough of that."

She then looked down, and her eyes went wide.

Tiny, bare footprints were in the flour.

Child-sized. Child-sized footprints that were leading right to...

Oh, bugger.

The knives.

The knives were gone.

"Oh, that can't be good."

At the sound of more laughter and pattering footsteps, she slowly looked up...

Floating above her, in a circle, and points _facing _down, were the knives.

With another bout of laughter, the each sped down, impaling themselves all around her.

At this point, Hilda was gripping the rolling pin so tightly that it was a wonder the wooden instrument did not snap in two.

This was bad... this was very bad!

* * *

As little Laeticia cooed, the sudden smashing of dishes from downstairs made the newest member of the Spellman family suddenly begin to whimper in fear.

Zelda looked up behind her. "Sabrina? Is that you, child?"

Laeticia then began to let out hiccupy wails, arresting Zelda's attention. "Oh, dear."

An idea popped into her head. "Now, now. Ah, I know just what will make you smile, little one."

As she started peekaboo, Laeticia kept crying, until Zelda poked her head over the rim of the cradle.

It seemed to be working... until the echo of childish laughter sounded throughout the house.

Suddenly, Zelda's sewing machine started to whir to life.

She watched it with wide eyes.

What in Satan's horns?

She walked over and... saw what was being stitched.

_We have your baby. _

Zelda's eyes went wide as she spun back to the cradle. "Laeticia."

But the cradle was empty.

No, no, no! "Laeticia!"

Child's laughter and running footsteps echoed through the house, as Zelda burst out of the room. "Hilda!" she cried out. "HILDA!"

"What?" gasped out her sister as she came running, clutching her rolling pin. "What's bloody happening?"

"It's the baby!" Zelda said.

"What?"

"Laeticia! She's missing!"

Suddenly, over the sound of children's laughter, they heard the baby crying.

The followed it to Sabrina's room, but it was empty, save for the sounds echoing all around them. The started looking all around until Hilda suddenly paused. "Wait, Zelda," she said.

"What!?" Zelda all but exclaimed.

Hilda tilted her head up somewhat. "There. Upstairs."

They hurried up to Ambrose's room, the crying getting louder but... there was nothing there as well.

A moment later, the door behind them slammed shut, followed by a loud crash.

Zelda's worry was starting to become tinged with annoyance. "The front hall," she said to her sister.

They burst downstairs and found the sounds coming from the opposite ends of the house.

With a shared nod, Zelda went left, and Hilda went right.

A moment later, Zelda heard Hilda's exclamations from the kitchen, and found her sister removing a crying Laeticia from the oven!

As they both whispered sweet words of comfort to the poor thing, (and Hilda showing Zelda the child-sized footprints in the flour) Ambrose staggered upstairs, sweat upon his brow and a haggard look in his eye.

"And where have you been?" Zelda inquired imperiously as she gently bounced Laeticia up and down.

He took a gasping breath. "Tying down all the corpses in the embalming room, and bolting all the hatches shut. We have an infestation, Aunties. We have _poltergeists_."

Zelda shook her head. Now, she had a clear picture of what was going on. "Not quite."

Sueenly the door slammed open, making them all whirl in alarm. "Oh, bugger," Hilda whimpered. "What now?"

Ambrose grabbed a knife, and they all rushed towards the front entrance, ready to engage the timeless instinct of fight or flight and...

In walked Sabrina, and she looked at them all as if they had gone crazy. "Uh... what's going on?" she asked.

* * *

"So, it's not poltergeists, it's Yule Lads," Aunt Hilda said, as she nursed a cup of tea.

"Yule lads?" Sabrina asked, while Salem tiredly dozed in her lap.

Aunt Zelda let loose a tired breath. "They're impish spirits that trickle down from the mountains every midwinter to cause mischief in the homes of unguarded witches."

She then looked towards the lit fireplace. "The little cretins must have gotten in when the Yule fire snuffed out."

Ambrose then spoke up. "Right, so all we have to do is banish the little buggers."

Aunt Hilda groaned. "Well, that's much easier said than done, love. The Yule lads are like bedbugs. Once they've latched onto your house, they're a mite bit difficult to get rid of."

Aunt Zelda nodded in agreement. "Indeed. They won't leave until their _mother_ tells them to."

"Their mother being Gryla," Aunt Hilda said.

"Right. Dare I ask?" Sabrina inquired. "Who's Gryla?"

"A most dangerous witch," Aunt Zelda replied. "The story goes that, Long ago, during a famine, she and another woman from her coven made a pact. They would eat each other's children to survive."

Sabrina let loose a groan of disgust. "Seriously? What is it with witches and cannibalism?"

Aunt Zelda ignored and continued her tale. "They cooked and devoured Gryla's son first, her only child, and then the other witch broke their pact. Devastated and driven mad with grief, Gryla's spent the last thousand years trying to replace her lost babe. She's forever 'adopting' children, particularly orphans, and adding them to her so-called 'family.'"

"So, what can we do?" Sabrina asked.

"All we can do," Aunt Zelda said, "is summon Gryla, then make her an offering in exchange for her gathering up her Yule Lads."

She then turned to Ambrose. "But first, Ambrose, you are going to have to get out of the house."

"And why is that?" he asked.

"Gryla was abandoned by her husband, and she absolutely despises men."

Aunt Hilda swallowed. "Though, she does like eating them."

Ambrose went a bit pale at that. "Oh."

He then swallowed and stood up. "You know what? I'm out," said he. "I have been invited to a Solstice party by Luke, and I can't keep holed up in this house of ours forever. Right, so, cheerio."

He then walked out of the room, followed by Aunt Hilda's gentle chuckles.

"We will also have to hide Laeticia while Gryla is here," Aunt Zelda continued. "If she sees her, she will try to take little Letty and add her to her retinue."

Sabrina nodded at that. "I can take her, auntie," she volunteered.

Aunt Zelda looked up at that, and Sabrina continued. "She's family now, Aunt Zelda. You've protected me all these years. It's only right that I return the favor. heck, it's the least I can do."

Aunt Zelda smiled at her.

* * *

_Later_

As Aunt Zelda deemed it too dangerous for Sabrina to teleport with her to the cabin in the mountains, she had to hide with the infant, and Salem, in the mortuary.

Sabrina had never really held a baby before, but Laeticia was not a fussy child. Holding her... it felt nice, oddly.

Then, Salem tensed up, and Sabrina heard footsteps upstairs.

* * *

Doing her best to keep herself composed, Zelda peered through the windows of the door and beheld Gryla. "Gryla from the mountains, if I give you entrance to this house, do you so swear to abide by its rules and customs?"

"I do," came the reply.

With nothing more to be said, Zelda reached forward and opened the door. "Come in from the cold, then."

In walked Gryla, and she followed Zelda into the kitchen, looking about as she did so.

The ancient witch was imposingly tall in stature, a good deal over six feet, in fact. She was garbed in arcane and austere dress and furs and garb of a foregone age, and though it was of may layers, the muscle she held could not be denied. Nor could her womanly curves. Her long, ankle-length hair was bound behind her back with a head-scarf and cascaded down her back like an ashy-blonde waterfall.

Slung over her side was a large messenger bag of tanned leather, and belted at her waist was a sword. With each step of her boots, chainmail rattled.

The witch's eyes were like two pits of endless water, all the way down to the darkest depths, and set deep-set into a carved, skull-like face. That skeletal face was pale, and decorated with strange blue symbols, more of which dotted about her bare hands and knuckles, alongside plenty of tiny scars. Those same bare hands had claws instead of nails.

She followed Zelda to the kitchen and looked over Hilda, and the table full of treats set out as offerings to her.

She looked at the sisters, and then spoke, in a deep and powerful voice, one the evoked the image of a wrathful bear ready to pounce upon any who dared to harm its cubs. "Why have you summoned me, witches?" Gryla asked.

"So that we may ask you to take your children home," Zelda replied.

Gryla quirked a single eyebrow. "Oh. Is this where my Yule lads have gotten to?"

All Zelda and Hilda could do were awkwardly nod.

Gryla's eyes narrowed. "What sacrifice do you offer me in exchange for this service?"

Hilda swallowed. "Well... Oh, well, let's see... Erm... We have some fresh baked... Solstice cookies. We've also got a cone of sugar, a pound of marzipan, some mince pies, and some yummy tea cakes, and delicious fruit jelly-"

Gryla held up a single clawed hand, and Hilda's mouth instantly fell shut. Then, the ancient witch spoke. "Have you any mead?"

For a moment, Zelda felt a loss for words. Then, she gathered her tongue. "Um... yes. I do believe so."

Gryla smiled at that, a thing full of sharp, pristine teeth. "Then drink with me, sisters."

With a tight smile, Zelda went and retrieved the glasses and mead, and gave one glass to Gryla's, whose great hand all but enveloped it.

* * *

_Unseen Academy_

Dressed in his best and most snazziest three-piece suit, Ambrose did his best to stride into the room with confidence.

It was a subdued atmosphere, filled with the witches and warlocks who had been invited into Blackwood's circle, and of which, Ambrose and Luke were now a part of.

In the center of the large room was the statue of a woman, with long, ankle-length hair and a long dress.

Some of the attendants were drinking, others chatting, or playing chess.

He then spotted Luke, sitting at the bar.

Despite himself, Ambrose felt a grin creep over his face. Now, this... this was good.

* * *

_Spellman Residence_

With a sigh of contentment, Gryla set down her glass next to the empty mead bottle and her crumb-laden plate.

Zelda and Hilda had only drunk about a glass each. Mead was not a favorite libation of Zelda's.

Gryla licked her lips, and then looked up.

Zelda took a puff of her cigar and then gave what she hoped was a good smile. "Is that sufficient?" she asked.

Gryla nodded. "It shall do. A most hearty meal though, to say the least."

She then stood to her full height and hefted up her bag. She then withdrew from her bag a brass bell. "Come along now, laddies," she said as she began to ring it. "Back to the mountains for us."

All around them, furniture shifted and scraped, doors opened and closed, and things went flying off the table.

Gryla started making her way to the door...

* * *

_The downstairs mortuary._

As Sabrina gently rocked Laeticia back and forth, the pacifier suddenly dropped out of the baby's mouth.

A moment later, she started to cry...

* * *

A footstep from the door, Gryla suddenly paused, as Laeticia's cries sounded through the house.

Zelda's eyes went wide.

Shit.

"A baby," Gryla said.

Slowly, Gryla turned to face Zelda and Hilda. "You have a baby here?" the ancient witch asked.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

* * *

_A moment later._

On one side of the living room stood Hilda, Zelda, Sabrina, Salem, and little Laeticia.

One the other side stood Gryla, a hand idly resting upon her sheathed sword.

Zelda did not like their odds.

Gryla's deep eyes narrowed. "That infant is not yours, Zelda Spellman. I can smell it," she snarled. "As such, I hold a greater right and claim to it than you ever could. I have been a mother, while you haven't."

Zelda stood firm. "I delivered her. I brought her into the world amidst the blood of her mother and helped her take her first cry. That is my claim, Gryla."

Gryla shook her head. "A midwife is not a mother. Lads, bring the baby to me."

Around them echoed the sounds of the laughter of children.

Sabrina held the child close.

"Leave the baby alone," said a voice that Zelda had not heard in a long time.

Then, behind Gryla appeared a person that Zelda had not seen in a long time.

There stood Diana, in her wedding dress, and upon her brow was a crown of golden leaves.

"Diana?" Zelda said.

"Mom?" gasped Sabrina.

"I shall be the one who decides who deserves the babe," Diana declared.

Grylla's eyes narrowed. "You?" she asked with contempt. "By what right?"

"A mother's right," Diana replied. "I, too, lost my child. It was she who invoked my spirit and called upon guides both mortal and infernal to ferry my soul here. The saint Lucia took my right hand, and the demon Lucy took hold of my left. Thus, I wear my crown on this, the longest of nights, and until the dawn rises and remakes the world, I speak with their total authority. Do you agree?"

"I do," said Zelda.

"So mote it be," growled Gryla.

Diana nodded. "Fine, then."

Diana then set her eyes on Laeticia and the floor. "Let there be a circle on the floor. The babe shall be put in the middle of that circle."

She looked towards Zelda. "You, Zelda, will take one of the babe's hands."

What?

Diana gazed at Gryla. "You, Gryla, will take the other. Whosoever has the strength to pull the child out of the circle shall thus win the babe."

What?

"What?" Zelda gasped out.

That... that was monstrous!

Gryla merely smiled. "Accepted."

Damn that ancient monster.

Zelda steeled herself. "Accepted."

Diana nodded, and then gestured with her hands. A circle of pure black etched itself into the floor. "Sabrina," she then said, "put the babe in the circle of salt."

"Mom, are you sure?"

Diana simply nodded again.

Hesitantly, Sabrina walked forward and placed little Laeticia in the center of the salt circle.

As the infant cooed, Zelda and Gryla both strode forward and knelt by her side. They each reached forward and grasped one of little Laeticia's arms... and started to pull.

Very soon, the coos turned to cries, and then to screams as Laeticia began to weep and kick in pain.

Zelda had to remain firm. She had to.

Gryla was as impassive as a stone mountain.

The screams grew louder.

She had to... remain firm.

She had to.

She...

As the screams reached an almost piercing level, Zelda could take no more. "Stop!" she cried out.

She released Laeticia's arm and stood to her feet. "I won't do it. I will not tear the baby to pieces."

Diana's face was impassive. "Then the babe is Gryla's."

"No!" Zelda exclaimed.

With a strange tenderness that belied the mightiness in her limbs, Gryla lifted up little Laeticia, and cradled her close, stroking her small head with one of her large hands.

Sabrina let loose a heavy sigh. "Sorry, Aunt Zelda, but fair is fair."

Zelda turned to her niece in shock. What in hell's name had gotten into her!?

"Come to mother Gryla, babe," Gryla cooed in a low tone. "Come with me, and you will never be cold, you will never be hurt, and you will never be alone."

Zelda wanted to do something, anything! But instead, she found her feet rooted to the floor like a tree.

Gryla looked up from her prize and flashed a grin that, damnably enough, held not a trace of mocking to it. In Zelda's eyes, that just made it worse. "A bright Solstice to you all," the ancient witch said.

She then turned on her heel and strode out the door, her sword and chainmail rattling with each step that swished her leather dress around her ankles. "Follow me, laddies," she said.

The echos of the Yule Lads' laughter followed her as she departed into the winter night.

A cascade of tears flooded down Zelda's cheeks. This was not fair. This was wrong, this was wrong!

Hilda then turned to Sabrina in disbelief. "Sabrina? How, how could you do that!?"

In response, Sabrina... smirked, and expression echoed by Diana. "We didn't," she said.

Zelda and Hilda turned to her in confusion.

"We would never, in a million years, give up baby Laeticia to Gryla."

Zelda felt very confused. "I-I don't understand."

* * *

_Spellman Mortuary_

With trembling hands, Zelda reached down to baby Laeticia, who was calmly sucking on her pacifier without a care in the world.

Zelda smiled through her tears. "Then... what did you give to Gryla?"

Sabrina chuckled. "I simply pulled an old changeling trick. I enchanted Ambrose's teddy bear to look like Laeticia. By the time it wears off, Gryla will be long gone and in the mountains."

Zelda looked up from the infant and towards her niece. "But how did you know how to do that?"

"My mom helped me."

From Sabrina's shoulder, Salem added a helpful 'fou.'

"After Laeticia cried out, mom appeared and told me the spell to make the switch."

Hilda chuckled. "Well, she certainly learned a trick or two from Edward, eh?"

Zelda blinked away more tears and started to turn to the spirit of her in-law. "Diana... thank you-"

When she finished turning, Diana was gone.

"Mom?" said Sabrina, as she and Hilda looked about.

"What happened? Where did she go?" Hilda asked.

Suddenly, from the front door came a great and rapid, almost frantic, banging.

The remnants of Zelda's smile fell from her face. "Well who the bloody hell is that now?" spat Hilda.

"Most likely Gryla, grown wise to your antics," Zelda said, her expression now stony.

* * *

When Sabrina answered the door, it was not Gryla. Instead, it was Roz and Mr. Wednesday.

Before Sabrina could give a greeting, Roz burst in. "It's Susie," she said. "She's been missing since last night, and I-I think she's in trouble."

"Indeed," Mr. Wednesday added, as the two explained the situation to Sabrina and her aunts. "We are most concerned. Young Roz here telephoned me earlier, and now here we are."

"She's missing?" Sabrina stammered out. "For how long!?"

"Mr. Putnam and Susie's uncle fell asleep in front of the tv last night, and neither heard her come in. Her bed hasn't been slept in, and they're talking to the police..."

She took a deep breath and then continued. "I went to the Hall of Saint Bernard where she was working and... that's when it happened."

"Uh, when what happened, love?" Hilda asked.

Roz took another breath. "I get visions of the future, and I had a vision there. I saw Mr. Hinzelmann, or, rather, something that looked like him, but it had horns and furry skin. I think he's going to kill her!"

Mr. Wednesday then looked to Roz in alarm. "Did you say Hinzelmann?"

Everyone looked to him in confusion. "Yeah, why?"

The history teacher's face grew... stony. "Thank you for saying that, young Roz. I now know where to look. But we must hurry. We don't have much time."

"Do you know what he is?" Aunt Zelda inquired.

He nodded. "I do, but now is not the time for long explanations. Susie's life is at stake. Follow me if you wish to help!"

He then spun on his heel and started to his car.

Aunt Hilda quickly handed to Laeticia to Roz. "Here, love. Stay here, and mind the wee one, will you?"

Before she could reply, Sabrina, Aunt Zelda, and Aunt Hilda followed after Mr. Wednesday to his car. A moment later, they were speeding off, following a glowing _berkano_ rune that he had traced in the air.

"What can we do?" Sabrina said as the car thundered down the driveway and onto the dirt road.

"Summon help," said Aunt Zelda. "This... heretic may be willing to help us, but, if this Hinzelmann is what I think he is-"

"Oh, he is a dark creature indeed!" interjected Mr. Wednesday, driving with almost manic energy as he banked a hard left.

"-Then we are going to need help. Gryla won't have gotten far. We can summon her, and sic the bitch upon this... Hinzelmann."

"But, won't she be angry at us for what we did?' Hilda asked, her face looking nauseous as the car made another sharp turn.

"Not necessarily. This Hinzelmann, he hurts children. There is nothing that Gryla despises more."

At that, Aunt Zelda closed her eyes and began to chant.

* * *

As she came to, Susie found herself lying down.

As she regained clarity, she found that she was... tied to an altar, with thick and firm ropes and chains. There was something wet on her face.

She craned her neck up, and saw Mr. Hinzelmann, standing beside her.

They... they were at Sweetwater River. Behind them, a great fire was roaring.

MR. Hinzelmann's eyes were closed, as if in deep contemplation. He then opened them, and...

His eyes were twin pools of pure black. Then, he raised up his hands.

Susie's eyes widened with fright and she began to struggle against her bonds.

He was holding a knife.

He looked down upon her with his pitch-black eyes and sighed. "As I said; I take no pleasure from this. Just know that it will be quick and that your sacrifice will help keep this town alive."

The tip of the blade shone in the firelight, and he closed his eyes and began to chant under his breath.

Suddenly, there came the sound of laughing children.

Hinzelmann paused in his chanting and looked about., his black eyes wary.

The laughter grew louder, and pieces of the alter fell off.

With a growling snarl that fitted a beast more than a human, Mr. Hinzelmann's hand suddenly snapped out like a snake and appeared to grab an invisible thing.

A moment later, a loud CRACK filled the air.

"Cease your tricks, Gryla!" Hinzelmann called out, as he dropped an invisible body into the snow. "I do not fear the mad remnants of a dead goddess!"

In a flash, he raised his knife to parry the sword blow of a giant woman who suddenly appeared from nowhere, her face contorted in wrathful fury.

"Release the child, murderer!" she exclaimed, as her sword flashed about, only to be parried each time by Mr. Hinzelmann.

"No, Gryla! This sacrifice is mine! It is necessary!"

* * *

As Mr. Wednesday pulled his car to a stop, at the riverbank, Sabrina and the others piled out and followed his floating_ berkano_ rune to a large bonfire. On the other side was Susie, bound to an altar of stones and branches, while Gryla battled Mr. Hinzelmann.

As they danced around each other, Gryla looked away from her foe for a brief moment and looked towards them. Her face rapidly contorted from anger to... shock?

Then, Hinzelmann scored a slash across her face with his knife, and it sent the witch careening to the ground with a howl of pain.

Sabrina reacted instantly, raised her hand like a gun, and shouted out _"gandr!"_

The ball of force sped out from her finger, and blasted Mr. Hinzelmann square in his chest, and sent him hurtling to the snow, swiftly followed by a second to his leg. The spell twisted the limb with a loud snap.

As the group hurried over to Susie, Gryla spared them one last look, and then vanished.

Mr. Hinzelmann's eyes bulged open as Sabrina, Mr. Wednesday, and her aunts approached him, each with wrath on their faces.

He dropped the knife still clutched in his hand and raised up his arms in surrender. "One child! That's all I ever take! Just one. I make sure they don't suffer. Just one child offered to the earth and the river, and then I, and this town, we live for another long, prosperous year."

Sabrina and the others kept walking forward, and he started scooting backward, leaving a trail of blood as he did so. His voice grew more hysterical as he spoke. "You think this town has really been lucky enough to weather all those recessions and wars and closures? That the coal mine has been able to stay open all this time through luck!? No! It was all because of me! I make sure that only one child has to die, so that all in this town, witch and mortal alike, can live happily! Is that... is that not worth the sacrifice? I make sure they don't suffer, and then send them to the riverbed, where they rest in peace! Just one life! Is that not worth it!?"

For a moment no one said anything. Then, Mr. Wednesday raised his hand. "Not this time."

The _gandr_ sped out, and a hole erupted between Hinzelmann's eyes.

The corpse fell to the ground with a wet _thud_.

Then... he started to change.

Everyone, even Susie on the alter, they all watched as the body changed from that of an elderly man... to that of a small child, no more than four years of age, perhaps, and impaled with two large swords through his chest.

Sabrina looked at the dead creature. "What... what was he?"

Waver examined the dead Hinzelmann with a prod of his foot. "...He was a kobold; a foul creature, crafted from even fouler magic that involves the sacrifice of a child that never knew any love. The resultant being was often worshipped as a god by its creators."

Her teacher's face grew thoughtful. "He must have been living in this town since at least its founding. And every year, one child, to kill, and give to the river..."

Everyone looked with horror towards the surface of the Sweetwater River. For the briefest of moments, Sabrina swore she could see the bottom covered in tiny little skeletons.

Mr. Wednesday then sighed and clapped his hand upon Susie's shoulder, as he undid her bonds and helped her up. "But, it's all over now, and I like to think that we have given them some peace in the afterlife. Now, let's get you home, little warrior. You've had a long day."

Susie looked up at him, shaking as she was from what she had endured. "Home? Oh my gosh! My dad and uncle!"

"We will take you right home and explain everything to them," Aunt Zelda assured.

Susie looked at Aunt Zelda as if she was crazy. "What? No! Tell them that I was kidnapped by a demon!? No, they'll never let me get an after-school job again, let alone leave the house!"

"Well, maybe not everything," Aunt Hilda said. "But, I do just so happen to have some nice gingerbread cookies that will make them think that the last twelve hours were but a dream, okay?"

With that, they all headed back to MR. Wednesday's car, though Sabrina noticed her teacher's eyes briefly lingering at where Gryla had been...

* * *

_Later_

In a grove whose location was known only to two, Gryla rubbed some snow against her wound.

"When I saw you, I hoped against hope that it was not you... and I knew that it was."

Gryla rose to her full height, and... saw a face that her tormented mind had never thought she would see again.

"Husband?" she gasped.

He nodded. He looked so different now, but she knew it was him. "Yes, my dear. It is me. After over three centuries... I have finally returned to you, here in our grove.

The ancient witch fell to her knees and grabbed Waver Wednesday's hand, as tears started to stream down her face. "I never lost faith in you, Hanged One, my husband. Never once. Even after everything that happened."

He looked upon her with pity in his eyes, as he pulled her to her feet. "Dear Gryla… Dear Freya. So much you suffered at the hands of fate. Especially what you were forced to do, to our child."

"I had no choice! They tortured me!"

"I know. You are not at fault for what happened." He then looked about and sighed. "Do you remember, back when we first found this little area? Do you remember how heavenly it seemed, in the moonlight? How we danced in joy at what we had found?"

The old ghost nodded, tears glistening upon her cheeks. "I remember, my husband. I remember."

"Then come. Let us dance, as we did so long ago."

As the snow fell, they danced, out there in the cold. It was a dance of sorrow, of the memories of kinder, simpler days, when life had been... less cruel to the pair.

They danced in the snow, heedless of how wet their feet and shoes became.

They danced. They danced and, under the moonlight, they shared a final kiss.

As their lips parted, Waver Wednesday whispered to the ancient witch-ghost in her ear. "Be at peace, my dear. Embrace this sacrifice. Our child is waiting. All the children are waiting."

As the sounds of laughing children echoed about them in sorrowful tones, Gryla closed her eyes, and slowly crumbled to ash, and the ash floated through the air and dissipated with the night breeze.

Soon, only Waver Wednesday stood in the snowy meadow, the blood on the knife in his hand glistening in the moonlight.

Waver Wednesday put his palm to his mouth and nose, as if to breathe in the last lingering scent of her, and then sighed, a single tear streaking down his cheek, as he fell to his knees, and slammed his fist into the ground.

A moment later, throughout the air and the forest, but heard by no one, was a scream of pure and unmitigated sorrow... and _rage._

* * *

Aunt Zelda had been in a quiet mood as Sabrina and the others were dropped off by Mr. Wednesday. They entered the house to find Ambrose, back form his party, nursing Laeticia.

He looked up at their arrival. "Well. Where have you lot been?" he asked.

"Susie got kidnapped by something called a kobold, and then we had to erase her dad and uncle's memory after we saved her from it," Sabrina replied.

Ambrose nodded. "Well, that sounds about right."

"Where's Roz?"

"I teleported her home before her parents could start to worry," Ambrose said.

"How is Laeticia faring?" Aunt Zelda asked.

"Not a peep since her bottle."

Aunt Zelda looked as if she were about to cry. "Well... she is a strong, brave girl... and she cannot stay here."

Sabrina and the others looked at her in shock. "Aunt Zelda?"

Aunt Zelda wiped at her eyes. "It's too dangerous for her to be here any longer. As long as Gryla is lurking about, she will come back for her. I'll arange for Laeticia to be sent to my friends in New Orleans after the midwinter holiday. It's well beyond Gryla's reach, and Laeticia will be well looked after there."

Sabrina looked at her aunt with pity. It was perhaps the first time she had seen her aunt... so heartbroken.

* * *

_The Cabin in the Mountains_

As Sabrina finished recounting the night's events to Harvey, he leaned back in his chair. "Wow. And Susie's okay?" he asked.

Sabrina nodded. "Yeah. A little shaken, but she's strong."

"Yep... and what about your mom?"

Sabrina sighed and shook her head. "By the time we got back, she was gone. And... I don't think I'll be able to summon her back."

"Is that... bad?" he asked.

Sabrina shrugged. "Honestly? I think she finished what she needed. I just got a sense that she's... at peace now, after seeing me again. And that's all that matters."

Despite this, a tear tracked down her cheek.

Without a word, Harvey got up and hugged her, tight.

Sabrina leaned into the hug, and, as the snow fell outside, they remained like that, witch and mortal.

It felt nice.

* * *

_Kinkle Mines._

The kinkle mines, now abandoned since what the town was now calling the 'Thanksgiving Weekend Massacre,' loomed like the gaping maw to the underworld.

Witnessed by none, the entracne began to glow a deep and unearthly red. Then, from that entrance... came three figures.

* * *

**A/N: Read, review, and enjoy! **


	19. Chapter 19

Fate Ragnarök Chapter 19: Something completely different, and then back and forth

_Roughly four months later,_

_April,_

_Somewhere in America_

In America, just as there are in many of the other Anglo-Saxon countries, there is a plethora of bars, little places that those with no hope or long days can go to forget their troubles, often at the bottom of a glass bottle.

Within the vast number of these bars, there is one in particular. At first glance, it seems neither greatly important nor destitute. It just was, nothing more, and nothing less.

Its health code score was up to date, and its owner made all the required payments on time.

Inside, it's main attraction was that the 'bar' portion of the bar, set in the center, was made to seem like the head of a giant crocodile. As an added gimmick, those who sat at it could hear a low ticking noise.

The owner of this bar was a woman, hard as nails and worn by life. Worn, and yet unbroken.

Her name was Jack. No one knew her last name, but, as she often sipped from an ever-present supply of whiskey, most just called her 'Whiskey Jack.'

No one really knew just how long she and her bar had been here, and so they just accepted her as having... come with the land.

But she was well regarded, for her alcohol, and her delicious food.

At the moment, with the bar not yet open, Jack was preoccupied with marching towards the men's bathroom, shotgun held firmly in hand.

He had been here for too fucking long. He had caused three bar fights, and he was drunk more often than not.

Though he paid well, even Whiskey Jack had her limits.

She stomped into the bathroom, pulled open the stall door, and saw her unwanted guest.

Said unwanted guest was a great brute of a man, all 7 feet and 7 inches worth of muscle. The red hair at the top of his head was wild and proud and trickled down to hang off the base of his skull, while his temples were shorn close, and then expanding again into a thick beard that adorned his lips and chin.

His jean jacket hung on the stall door, he rested atop the toilet with his pants at his ankles, and his head was against the toilet paper roll.

Snores shook his massive frame like miniature eath-quakes on a map of Texas.

Upon his shirt was the following; 'If you can't eat it, drink it, or snort it, then fuck it.'

Whiskey Jack poked the shotgun against his forehead, and pushed him up, waking him as this happened.

He looked nonchalantly at the shotgun that Whiskey Jack now currently had aimed between his bloodshot, hazel eyes.

"You best be waking up now, _Miskwà_," Jack said. "And you best be getting along, before my crocodile takes a bite out of you."

The unwanted guest blinked a few times, and then sighed, and reached down for a nearly-empty bottle of gin that lay by his side. "Ye won' shoot," he said in a brogue as thick as the seas around his native land. "Ye'll try, but the gun'll jam. Or worse, the thing will backfire, and you'll lose two fingers."

Whiskey Jack pumped the safety.

The unwanted guest took a sip of gin and gave a sardonic grin. "Don' push yer luck, bridie. Bloody stuff's on my side."

Whiskey Jack pulled the trigger.

The unwanted guest kept drinking as the gun clicked and jammed.

Whiskey Jack swore in her native tongue.

_"We warned you that would happen," _said three voices, speaking as one. _"A prick he may be, but Sweeny still holds the luck of the sun. He's annoying, like that."_

Sweeny's bloodshot eyes widened at the voices, and at the sound of three sets of footprints entering the bathroom.

As Jack left the bathroom, fussing over her ruined gun, three took her place.

They were three women, gothic in garb, and alike yet... not alike. The one on the right had hair like black feathers dipped in blood and bloody hands and bracelets and a stud in her right nostril. The one in the middle had hair like blood on fire and a few necklaces of ebony on her neck and madness danced around her like a twisted halo and around the ring between her nostrils. The one on the left had hair like liquid sunset and had a horseshoe belt buckle around her leather pants, and golden rings upon her fingers and a stud on her left nostril.

Upon their pale flesh, each bore strange, arcane designs, and pictures, and all three were lovely and terrible to behold.

"Fuck me," Sweeny said with a groan.

_"Perhaps another time,"_ the three said in unison. "_But you know why we are here, do you not, Longarm? You've known for a long time."_

"Don't call me that," he murmured. "I'm not him."

_"But it is your title," _they insisted. "_The title that you earned, though great and mighty deeds. It is as much a part of you as is your name, L-"_

"The fuck it is!" he bellowed, as he staggered to his full height. "The man you want is dead! He was buried deep beneath heathens and sainthoods and fairies and crosses and priests and rainbows and marshmallows and shite! Nothing left of the bastard but scattered memories and gold coins. If you've come looking for him, _the Longarm_, yer aboot a few fuckin' centuries too late, you crowy cunt. If ye want someone to fight, then find the fuckin' Silverhand!"

_"I cannot. He's dead. He died in New York."_

He groaned, and then stumbled out past them, pulling up his pants as he did so. "Sorry ta hear that, but, whatever you've come ta sell and or ask, yer wastin' yer fuckin' time. I'm not interested in hearin' anything!"

_"Surely, you've heard the call? The sound of drums echoing in your ears? The rush of blood to your veins, crowding the edges of your vision in red?"_

"No, I have not! If yer here ta sell me on Wednesday's fuckin' dog and pony show, then you can tell that one-eyed cunt that he can go an' stick it up through his own arse 'till it comes out 'is mouth and nose!"

_"That is only a part of it, Longarm. The War that he was a part of in the East, it is coming here, to America. It will be a war of heroes, and one that will decide all our fates."_

"So fuckin' what!?"

_"If you truly wanted no part of any war... then why have you let those markings appear on hand, Longarm? Your lies are quire transparent."_

The one called Mad Sweeny paused as he reached across the bar for another full bottle of alcohol with his right hand. That hand bore three strange designs upon it, indeed almost etched into the skin; a spear piercing a sun.

He looked at those three crimson markings for a long moment, and then groaned, and slammed his head upon the wooden surface of the bar once. "Fuck."

One of the three reached out a hand, bejeweled in silver rings and runic tattoos, and laid the hand gently upon his brawny shoulder. _"You ran from war, from battle once, Longarm, and you became poorer. Then you fled here in the memories of a young girl. You have fallen far from your glory... but you can reclaim it, that power, that glory._

_"You... and your son."_

That made him raise his head. "My son? Ye... ye can help me summon him?"

In response, the one on the right held out a hand, revealing a set of earrings nestled within the palm. _"Regret and sorrow is not a thing unique to you... __Ildánach. This War holds salvation and doom for all of us. It also holds, perhaps... a chance at redemption._

_"I am willing to grasp at it. I am willing to atone. Are you..._ Lugh?"

He looked at those earrings for a long moment, the silence becoming an almost palpable thing.

He then reached up, and took the earrings from her, almost gently, in fact.

"Fuck," he said.

He then rose from the bar, held out his free hand, and dropped, almost as if from nowhere, a small pile of golden coins, each one _clinking _against the other. "For yer trouble, birdie," he called out to Whiskey Jack.

She replied with a middle finger but took the gold anyway.

Lugh, known in America as the leprechaun Mad Sweeny, cracked his neck and gripped the earrings tight. "Right... let's go."

The Morrigan smiled three smiles at once. "_Indeed. Let us be off. War awaits."_

* * *

_Somewhere... In England_

_The Clock Tower_

The message had been received and was being sent up to the Clock Tower's highest authority.

When Lorelei saw the name on the list, a thousand things ran through her mind at once. Most of those could be summed up in the following way, and were best spoken whilst one rocked themselves back and forth in a fetal position; _ohshsitohshitohshitshoshitoshit... FUCK!"_

Lorelei was not a woman given to fear, but right now... she felt a good bit afraid.

It was not the participant's first name that made her afraid, and nor was it the middle name. No, no. It was the third name that made the fist of fear ram itself so far into Lorelie's stomach that it was a wonder she did not puke on her shoes.

Constantine.

Throughout the history of magecraft and the Magus Association, that one particular name was the only one to evoke a strange concoction of respect, fear, horror, and utter terror.

Mostly terror.

On one hand, the Constantine family boasted of a pedigree and legacy that stretched all the way back to the Age of Gods itself, even if its current members had not the affluence to show for it. Its members could be called upon to perform feats of daring, great courage, and more than a few had made the ultimate sacrifice in service for the world and the greater good. One of the previous rulers of the Clock Tower had even been a Constantine.

On the other hand, any and all Constantines more often than not proved themselves to be a right bunch of utter lunatics and bastards and thorns in the sides of the Clock Tower. If you encountered a Constantine, there was quite a high probability that you would leave lesser for it, if you were lucky enough to survive. Even the 'good' members of the family walked very finely on the edge between light and dark, and many had committed acts that left even the most amoral of the Clock Tower magi reeling from sheer and utter shock at the acts being committed.

A grand example had been the Bloody Moon Incident of Aylesbury...

That had been, in the kindest possible terms, _a complete and utter clusterfuck. _

And now, one of this family had been chosen to be one of the Clock Tower's representatives in that stupid contest!?

So yes, Lorelei was feeling _greatly perturbed_.

After a long moment, she managed to collect her panicking thoughts and turned to her assistant. "So... where is she?"

The assistant turned an interesting shade of pale. "We're... not entirely sure."

* * *

_Somewhere Else in England_

It was a rather odd sight. In the empty floor of the empty office building, there was a round table, the sort of which one played card games upon.

Indeed, at the moment, a rather odd game of poker was being played, but with only two sides.

On one side sat three terrible creatures. They had grey skin emblazoned with strange nad horrid symbols, and eyes the glowed with what could only be described as 'hellfire.' One had two horns, the second hand one, and the third had none.

On the other side of the table sat a young woman. She was of medium height, and mixed heritage, and quite beautiful, with her long, free-hanging brown hair that had a streak of purple and blonde coloring in it. The piercing in her lip, which she sometimes tounged, seemed to only enhance her allure, as did her purple eyes.

She wore a black, sleeveless, low-cut, waistless crop-top under an unbuttoned red shirt-jacket with sleeves that came up to the middle of her forearm, leaving a healthy amount of tattooed flesh on display on her arms, chest, stomach, and even neck. Upon the aforementioned neck, she wore four necklaces, with one like a collar, one a collection of gold chains, one like a silver compass point, and the fourth a strange ruby pendant that seemed to glow with an inner light. She wore black leather pants and sturdy walking boots. On her tattooed hands, she wore fingerless gloves.

She was quite beautiful, in a manner that emphasized her unwillingness to take shit from anyone or thing.

This, in a nutshell, was Rin.

A sour expression marred her features, as she threw down her cards in disgust. "Just my fucking luck," she said with a proper Liverpool accent. "Four of a kind, and it fucking looses."

Two-Horns chuckled as he hauled all the chips and pound notes in the center towards him. "Too bad, Rin. Look's like lady luck has a taste for the infernal tonight, _heh-heh-heh."_

"A real taste," No-Horns parroted.

One-Horn then chimed in as well. "Have you gained weight? You look good."

In response, she stuck out her tongue. "Screw the bunch of yah. Let's just play another hand. I'm feelin' a mite luckier."

Two-Horns said nothing and dealt out the cards. Rin looked at the few chips and pound notes that she had left (barely enough to pie a family-sized packet of crisps) and then took a peek at her hand.

It also did not escape her notice that Two-Horns had transfixed and transformed his own.

Time to get the ball rolling.

She cracked her knuckles. "So, what say we raise the stakes a bit more, eh?"

Two-Horns raised a ridged brow. "Really? And what have you ta bargain with, Rin?" the demon sneered. "All knows that a soul from yer family ain't worth two bits. So, without that, what have ya got to offer?"

Rin blew out through the pierced side of her mouth. "I can get you access to the Clock-Tower Labyrinth."

That got the attention of the Demons-Three. "You're shitting us," No-Horns said. "We only have yer word on that, Rin, and yer word's not as good as ya might think."

Rin raised a hand in pledge. "Cross my heart and swear on the Queen, mate. It's the honest truth. But, just so you know I'm serious, as an added incentive..."

She pulled off her glove and held up her bare hand. A moment later, the room was briefly alit with an ethereal, crimson glow as three particular markings stood out among her other tattoos.

As one, the three demons all felt their jaws drop in shock. "Are those-?"

"You better believe it," Rin said. "They are one-hundred-percent genuine. So, are these worth maybe a raise in your own stakes as well, boyos?"

The demon with two horns looked towards his compatriots, and they started to murmur amongst themselves. Rin thought that it looked rather stupid.

Then, Two-Horns whispered a word under his breath, and over the table materialized a flaming array. A sizeable chest plopped onto the table, and it was filled to the brim with gold coins, money, jewels, arcane items, and little vials that seemed to be filled with screaming faces.

Rin looked over everything with a keen eye. "Is that really all you can muster? A box of random knick-knacks and geegaws?"

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Two-Horns asked. "These here are quality goods. We've got a working soul catcher, Orgid's Ice Spike, and the Girazzi, among other things."

Rin looked it over once more, and then shrugged. "All right. Seems fair enough. Ready to end this?"

She laid her cards face up and spread them out.

2 of hearts, 2 of clubs, 5 of clubs, and 7 and 3 of diamonds.

The demons three looked at her revealed hand and then laughed.

"Holy shit, Rinny," Two-Horns said as the guffaws died down, "now that is a losing hand for the ages."

He set his royal flush on the table. "Now, as for me? Read 'em and-"

Before he finished boasting, the cards glowed, and his royal flush became a royal dud.

Rin smirked as she closed the lid on the chest. "Do they have eye-doctors in the Far Side of the world, or hell, or whatever? I'd suggest you get yourself an appointment, mate."

The faces of the Demons-Three then contorted in pure, absolute rage.

"You fuckin' cheated!" Two-Horns bellowed as an ax materialized into his hands.

The other two got to their feet as well with their own weapons in hand.

Rin's grin turned downright predatory, as her eyes began to radiate color. "Yeah, but so did you. I just happened to do it better, wanker."

* * *

Had there been any witnesses standing outside, then they would have witnessed the following scene; all the windows on the thirteenth floor suddenly getting blown out in a massive explosion of fire.

They would have witnessed the sight of three demonic-looking creatures roaring and swinging strange weapons at their foe in the blasted wreck of that floor.

Mostly, they would have noticed said foe, a crazy-looking woman with a piercing in her lower lip, proceeding to burn/ suffocate/ drown them to death, and also stabbing them over and over again with a shiv crafted from hardened, reinforced, silver-inlaid, and thrice-blessed steel.

The Demons-Three were powerful adversaries and had sent many unprepared, orthodox magi and executor to a fiery death.

Unfortunately, Rin was neither unprepared nor orthodox. She was the heir to the Constantine bloodline, after all.

She was also extremely powerful and trained in hand-to-hand combat.

With a sweeping kick, Rin sent No-Horns' head flying clean off his shoulders, and his body dissipated in a burst of flame, before she then ducked low, stabbed her shiv in One-Horn's demonic equivalent of a penis, and then broke his neck with a punch.

A moment later, only Two-Horns was left, bleeding from several wounds. "Fuck... you, Constantine!" he gurgled out. "You'll burn in hell for this! You and yer whole fuckin' family, ya cunt!"

Rin looked at the demon with a deadpan expression, despite the blood running down her face, and then raised her hand in the shape of a finger gun. "Learn some fucking manners, ya piece of shit cock-and-balls wanker."

A moment later, a burst of gemstone _gandr _left a large hole in Two-Horns' forehead. The body dissipated before it could hit the floor.

Rin's eyes took a few deep breathes as she craned and cracked her neck, and then, humming to herself, she proceeded to gather up all her winnings into the chest. She then walked up to the room's intact doorframe and tapped its edge three times.

On her neck, her compass necklace glowed, and a wooden door materialized into the doorframe.

A moment later, she entered her room, set down her newly-acquired spoils, and collapsed to her bed.

Just another day in the life of Rin Tohsaka Constantine.

* * *

_The next morning._

Rin woke up slowly.

She was a little miffed to be waking up alone, but hey, that was life sometimes.

With a groan, she stretched out her tired muscles, and took a shower, before changing into a copy of what she had been wearing the night before.

Then, she headed down to the dining room of the House of Mystery.

No one really knew the origins of the house, save that it had always existed. It held within its depths great artifacts and knowledge of the Moonlit world, and countless mysteries, hence its name.

It was also where Rin had lived since she was six years old.

With a yawn, she entered the room and saw Uncle John, Aunt Zatanna, and her newborn cousin Zachary, who was seated in his highchair and resisting all attempts by his father to feed him.

"Morning," Rin said, as she scratched at her head, and then kissed the head of her infant cousin, who cooed and gurgled in return.

Uncle John looked up from his attempts to feed his infant son, and smirked. "Well well, Mornin', sunshine. Heard you come in last night. Stay out late again past yer curfew? For shame, little spitfire."

"Yeah, yeah," she said half-heartedly, as she messily on a full English breakfast and crumpets.

A few years ago, she would not have been able to stomach so much food. Now, after the Rail Tracer incident, and the fairy transfusion, she had to eat a lot these days.

Not that she was really complaining. Fairy blood and fairy organs gave way to becoming a fairy-human hybrid and apparently gave you a fairy metabolism.

Auntie Zee looked up from her cup of tea and morning paper and gave Rin a kind smile. "We're just glad you made it home safely, Rin."

"Was there ever any doubt?" Rin asked around a mouthful of beans, tomato, and toast. "You know how careful I am, right?"

The response was three dead-pan stares, even from little Zachary.

Rin simply swallowed, and then blew them all a raspberry. For Christ's sake, she was a 32-year-old woman.

Besides, Uncle John had been just as reckless when he was younger. Hell, he still was, sometimes.

But, she said nothing, just pouted, and finished her meal like the big girl that she was.

"So...when do you head to the states?" Uncle John then asked, his face becoming serious.

"Soon," Rin replied as she stood up, glancing down at her hand as she did so. "Just need to get a few last things in order, see a man about a lake, that sort of thing. You know how it goes, right?"

Auntie Zatanna then stood up and embraced Rin in a warm hug. "Whatever you do, please try and come back in one piece, okay? Little Zachary would be most upset if you didn't come back."

Rin hugged her aunt tightly. "Hey, you know me. I'm a Constantine. We always bounce back, ya know? I always bloody come back."

Little more was said after that, though Uncle John rubbed her hair like he did when she was little.

Before she left, she packed up and then stored everything in the hat that Auntie Zatanna gave her.

She then strode to the front door of the house, and opened it, to reveal a moonlit lake...

* * *

_The dream was very familiar and yet felt unfamiliar. _

_She wanted to not step forward, but she did anyway._

_The bones littered every inch of the forest floor, and the trees were twisted deathly things. _

_In the mists, she heard the rustle of beasts but kept walking further within. _

_Above, the night sky was awash with a galaxy and stars alit with a distant radiance._

_She took a step forward._

_ It looked like an orchard, but all the trees were made of bones, and they were all bare. All, that was, save for one, in the center of the orchard. _

_Half of the massive tree was rotting flesh and bone, and the other was healthy-looking bark the color of snow. Blood was weeping in small rivers from its branches and trunk. Under her feet, the bones creaked and crunched slightly. _

_She wanted to turn away, but, still, she stepped forward. Another crunch._

_Then, came a low rumbling. _

_Before her, there appeared the Buffaloe, with its white fur and burning gaze, and its ground-shaking footsteps. _

_It stood before her in all its majesty, and she felt... small._

_It breathed on her, the moist mist from its nostrils oddly soothing. Almost hesitatingly, she reached out and touched its snout, and it was wet and warm. The buffalo seemed to lean into her touch._

**Believe.**

* * *

_Across the Atlantic_

_Somewhere in America_

Sabrina awoke to the sound of a hand tapping against the car window.

"Rise and shine, sleepy bones," said Mr. Wednesday, as he looked at Sabrina and the others through the window. "I have some business in this town, so we are stopping here for tonight. It got us rooms. 103, 104, and 105."

Raising her head from Harvey's shoulder, Sabrina and the others piled out of the car, stretching and looking about as they did so. Salem yawned and hooped onto his customary perch on Sabrina's shoulder.

The big sign in the parking lot said 'Motel America.'

The town surrounding the motel looked ordinary. A bit like Greendale, but different in the ways that counted.

"I got us three rooms; one for me, one for you and your little paramour, and one for Roz and Theo. Any objections?"

There were not.

"So, then, what are we doing here?" Sabrina asked as they all stood in the parking lot.

Mr. Wednesday smiled as he handed her a small bag and two motel keys, and then got into his car. "_I _am here to pay my respects. You four can busy yourselves elsewhere. Here, have some spending cash. Go about the town, eat at the local diner, play at the arcade, or watch a fun movie. Just... relax, have fun. But, be sure to meet me back here before tomorrow. Again, just go and have fun. Also, I would suggest leaving little Salem there in your room. Would not want to attract unanted attention, am I right?"

As he then drove off, Sabrina exchanged glances with her friends, and then looked down at the money Mr. Wednesday had handed her. It was... a good bit.

$2,000, to be precise.

This could work.

* * *

_Church_

Wednesday found it to be a touching service, though the pastor seemed to just drone _on and on_.

These Christians, but for fuck's sake.

The deceased's family were, as expected, more than a bit weepy. They were soon surrounded by well-wishers and other little people mouthing empty little consolations.

"Excuse me. but... are you a relative, or friend of the family?" one of the attendees behind him asked in a whisper.

In lieu of a verbal response, Wednesday simply turned and stared at them for a long moment.

It sent them devolving into awkward stammering.

He turned his sight back to the front, to the oak coffin.

Later on, the service proceeded to the graveyard, while Wednesday watched from a distance away.

He waited until the casket was buried into the ground, the hole was filled in, and the mourners all departed.

He waited until the graveyard grew quiet, as the sun started to set into the western horizon.

With a flourish, he doffed his hat and pulled out of its depths a shovel.

Shouldering the tool, he strode over to the fresh grave and began to dig...

* * *

_Nighttime_

The sun finished setting, and they had had a fun time.

They had seen a fun movie at the local theater, played at the local arcade, walked about, and even had a wonderful dinner at the town's nicest restaurant.

Sabrina, Harvey, Theo, and Roz had enjoyed every moment of it since this was really the first actual place they had been to outside of Greendale.

Sure, it had been a necessity that they flee the town after Sabrina killed the Dark One (No, it was _Baphomet_, the Dark one thing had been total bullshit), and because they had to save the world, but it was still fun!

So, they walked back to the motel; Harvey's arm draped around Sabrina's shoulder, and Theo and Roz laughing about the movie.

Sabrina then pulled out her phone. "Hey, guys. How about a picture?"

"Sure." "Cool." "Nice."

Thye all huddled together as Sabrina angled the camera.

_Flash._

The moment the camera shutter on the camera clicked, all the streetlights went out, and they then heard a strange, humming/ whirring noise, like the fluttering of insect wings.

It was the sort of noise that one could not help but want to investigate.

They followed the sound off the street and road, onto the grass, and saw, on the ground, four strange boxes.

As they drew closer, the sound ceased, and the boxes softly glowed.

A moment later they unfolded into what looked like VR goggles-

Sabrina felt something envelop her head, and everything went black.

She felt herself being pulled quickly though a strange tunnel-like thing.

Then, sight came back, in the form of white light, and everything seemed to... fold out into existence, for lack of a better term.

Soon enough, the folding ceased, and Sabrina and Harvey and Roz and Susie found themselves seated in… a limo.

At the other end, a figure _materialized_ before them. From what little they could tell, it was about their age.

As it finished _materializing_, it spoke, in a pixilated, distorted voice. "Hello, guys."

The figure seemed neither male nor female and yet... both?

It looked at them with strange eyes and smirked. "Now then... your magic and tricks won't work here, so don't fuck with me."

Sabrina blinked but found that to be a truth. She could not feel any of her magic or magecraft. Perhaps it was best to play along? "Uh, okay. We won't."

Roz then spoke up. "Look, there's obviously been a little bit of a misunderstanding here. So, if you could just drop us off at the motel-"

"Hit them."

A moment later, all four felt an elbow slam into their faces.

Materializing next to each of them were strange, track-suit wearing beings... that had no face.

"See, now I said don't fuck with me," the figure said. "Now that? That was fucking with me. So, keep your answers short and to the point, or I will fucking kill all four of you."

They then shrugged. "Or, maybe I won't, and I'll just have the Children here break every last bone in your fucking bodies. So, either way? Don't. Fuck. With. ME."

Theo swallowed as he felt at his nose. "... Got it," said Sabrina

"You four little pissants are working for Wednesday."

Thye then pulled out what looked like a vape pen with a alrge bulb at the end. "Smoke?" they asked.

Sabrina and her friends shook their heads. "No."

"Eh, suit yourself."

The figure took in a large inhalation and then blew out several smoke rings, right into Sabrina and Theo and Harvey and Roz's faces.

It smelled... it smelled horrendous, and Sabrina felt herself gagging. "Ugh," Harvey groaned. "Smells like an appliance fire."

They figure chuckled. "Synthetic toad skins. Latest batch."

They sucked on the vape pen again, blew out more rings, and then spoke. "Right, so let's get down to brass tacks. What the fuck is Wednesday after?

"What's he doing here?

"There's got to be a plan.

"What's the game plan, man?"

Sabrina was starting to feel... dizzy like her thoughts were not connecting. The others looked like they were feeling the same.

Sabrina blinked. "He... he helped save our town from the Dark O- I mean, Baphomet. We're traveling with him. He says we can help save the world."

The figure smirked. "How very auspicious. Your four must be special."

As Sabrina and her friends kept coughing, the figure kept speaking. "Wednesday is history. He is forgotten and... old. He should lay down, close his eyes, and let it happen. We are the future, and we don't give a _fuck_ about him or anyone else like him anymore, ya feel me?"

The dizzy feeling increased, and Sabrina blinked again.

Sabrina blinked, and the figure seemed a rainbow-colored mixup of pixelating images and surfaces. "Those, and others like him? They are consigned to the dumpster. Now, _we_, on the other hand, have reprogramed reality.

"Language is a virus.

"Religion, an operating system, and prayers are just so much _fucking_ spam."

Why was this person talking about prayers? Sabrina cleared her throat. "Uh, yeah, wait, you're saying all of this, but it's like we're supposed to know what the hell it is you're talking about."

"The DOMINANT FUCKING PARADIGM, Sabrina," the vaper replied. "That, kiddies, is the only important thing. Oj, and by the way, well done on killing that horned fucker Baphomet, Sabrina. He was a nasty piece of work."

...

None of them had expected to hear that. "Uh... thanks," Sabrina said.

"So, I will ask you four again... What is it that dear old Wednesday is up to?"

This time, Harvey spoke up. "Listen, man. We don't know who the hell you are, and we don't know what the hell you're talking about. So, how about you just let us out of... whatever this place is, and we'll just go our separate ways, yeah?"

"So, what you're telling me is that you don't know?" the figure asked.

Theo shook his head. "We're telling you that we don't know."

The figure's smile turned malicious. "Well, for curiosity's sake; would any of you tell me if you did?"

Roz then answered. "Not a chance in hell."

The figure's eyebrow raised. "Okay, then... why the fuck am I wasting my time sitting here and talking to you four little chuckle-fucks?"

Sabrina was tired, confused, and just wanted to leave. So, understandably, her patience was wearing thin. At the figure's question, she let loose a derisive chuckle. "Wow. Finally. You know, I was really starting to wonder just how long you were going to keep on sucking your own dick."

The space went dead silent at that.

The figure chuckled, took a long pull from their vape pen, and then leaned forward, look a predator cornering its prey.

"Kill them," they said.

A moment later, Sabrina felt a fist smash against her head, and more all around her, dragging her and the others to the floor of the limo, all around and again and again and she tried to ward them off but there were too many and...

Suddenly, the figures paused, like how one would a video.

Groggily, Sabrina looked up to their captor, while Roz and Theo and Harvey groaned.

The figure returned Sabrina's gaze. "Now, just so we're clear; we're not just going to kill you, kiddies," the figure said. "We're going to _delete_ you. With one click, just _one_ click, you are completely overwritten."

They chuckled again. "Now, undelete?" They gave a nonchalant shrug. "That is just not a viable option."

They clicked a button.

The ceiling opened up, and Sabrina and her friends were sucked upwards...

* * *

As water rained down, the first thing Roz felt was a boot heel against her ribs.

As she screamed in pain, more followed, and her screams were echoed by her friend's, alongside a percussion of fists and feet against flesh.

Her jaw, her shoulder, her ribs, her cheek, her leg, her thigh... over and over.

They were yanked to their feet...

Her face, her stomach, her jaw, her eye, her nose... over and over.

Her glasses shattered.

Blood ran down her nose, and a tooth fell out

The pain became all-encompassing until she hardly even felt the blows.

Theo cried out in sobs.

Harvey grunted, and Sabrina screamed.

Then, the fists and kicks and punches stopped.

A thick fiber around her neck-

No. No

No, nO, NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!

With renewed vigor, Roz and her friends kicked and screamed and tried to fight back, but there were too many, and they were dragged, down across the muddy ground, as the rain continued to fall.

Then, they were hoisted off the ground, and Roz dangled, as the rope grew tighter-

Hard to breathe, hard to breathe, hard to-

-Theo and Harvey were limp, and Sabrina gasped and kicked-

HELP!

HEL-

"Fou."

A moment later, the ground rushed up to meet Roz, and air returned as she numbly removed the noose.

She heard the gasping breaths of her friends and the roars of what seemed like a wild animal.

A moment later, amongst the rain, she felt something warm and sticky splash over her face.

Oh, it was blood.

She was... covered in blood.

That... was not good.

Suddenly the roars stopped.

Roz felt Sabrina's hand shakingly pull her to her feet, and Roz nearly collapsed from the pain. Harvey had Theo on his back.

As one, all four looked down.

Sitting before them, casually licking the blood off of its paws, was Salem.

The little creature was surrounded by the savaged corpses of the lynch mob.

For a long moment, nothing was said.

Then, Sabrina spoke, her voice hoarse. "Good boy, Salem. Good boy."

* * *

_Somewhere_

The lake was peaceful, quiet, and lit up by ethereal moonlight.

Right, no time to waste.

Rin set down the armor fragment, and traced the circle into the ground.

Right, everything seemed in order.

Then, she stood up.

Rin interlaced her fingers, cracked her knuckles, gave her ruby pendant a comforting squeeze, and then held out her hand, and started to chant.

_Silver and iron to the origin. Gem and the archduke of contracts to the cornerstone._

_The ancestor is my great master Schweinorg._

_The alighted wind becomes a wall. The gates in the four directions close, coming from the crown, the three-forked road that leads to the kingdom circulate._

_Shut (fill)._

_Shut (fill)._

_Shut (fill)._

_Shut (fill)._

_Shut (fill)._

_Repeat every five times._

_Simply, shatter once filled._

_――――I announce._

_Your self is under me, my fate(doom) is in your sword._

_In accordance with the approach of the Holy Grail, if you abide by this feeling, this reason, then answer._

_Here is my oath. I am the one who becomes all the good of the world of the dead, I am the one who lays out all the evil of the world of the dead._

_You, seven heavens clad in three words of power, arrive from the ring of deterrence, O keeper of the balance ―――！_

The circle glowed with moonlight, and the entire area began to thrum with power.

Then... there was a bright flash, and the three Markings on Rin's hand glowed brightly.

For a brief moment, she heard the sound of a mighty trumpet, the sort that signaled the start of a battle.

Or a war.

A moment later, the glow faded, and standing before her in the summing array was a knight, like something out of a fairy tale.

The Knight was tall and handsome. His armor was a pristine white, intermingled with blues, greens, and gold. He bore a great blue cloak over his shoulders, alongside golden crosses.

He wore no helmet, and his hair was purple, save for a single streak of blue over his right eye, and his ears were pointed. His eyes were as purple as hers and seemed a bit sad.

He stood upon the surface of the water as if it were a solid surface.

Two swords were sheathed at his waist.

He put a hand over his chest and bowed at the waist, his armor making not a sound as he did so. "I am Servant Saber, having come to your call, oh Summoner. It may just be for a moment, but my swords are yours to command, oh Master."

He practically radiated nobility, power... and sorrow.

Rin nodded. "Righto. Well then, glad to have you onboard, Saber. But now, we got a long way to go."

* * *

**A/N A few things.**

**The lynching scene was planned well before George Floyd and everything else. It is just part of the story, but I apologize if it makes anyone uncomfortable. **

**I decided to implement a four-month time skip. I will be slowly revealing what happened during those four months before Sabrina, Harvey, Theo, and Roz left town with Mr. Wednesday.**

**Rest assured, the Holy Grail War is coming, and it will be BIG. **

**Anyway, I know this chapter is rather short, but read, review, and enjoy.**

**If you can guess who Rin has summoned, then congrats. It's y own spin on the character, and I hope you will like it, as well as what I have done with Rin's story. Suffice to say, she is a bit different from how she is in canon. Being raised by the Laughing magician and Zatanna Zatara will do that to you. **


End file.
